Harvest
by BiteMarks
Summary: Mick leaves on a mysterious case and asks Josef to protect Beth. A Jo/Be story.
1. Chapter 1

**Harvest  
**

**Prologue  
**

"_Are you sure about this, Mick?"_

"_No. But I'm going anyway. I can't just leave Coraline in the hands of the Duvall's after everything she's done to help me. You didn't see her face, Josef. She was genuinely terrified."_

_His jaw tightened as he remembered the way Coraline had trembled just before the stake was pushed into her chest._

"_I'd really like to believe she gave me the cure because she was sorry for what she did to me, but.. I just don't trust her. I don't trust any of the Duvall's. Coraline took Beth for a reason. One we don't fully understand. Her capture could just be a ruse to lure me away, so Beth will be alone and vulnerable." _

_He paused, looking Josef directly in the eye, and said in a low, fierce voice, "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to her, Josef."_

_He held Josef's gaze until he was sure the other man understood the depth of his need. _

_The gentle pop of flames in the fireplace was the only sound in the room until Josef broke the silence. _

"_The Duvall's are the most well connected, well protected vampires in France, Mick, and they'll be expecting you. You'll need a rock solid cover before you'll be able to get anywhere near them. Ryder can help with some of that, but establishing some genuine bona fides might take months."_

"_I know." It was said with grim determination. He understood the implication of his decision. "I want her protected at all times while I'm away. I won't be able to do this properly unless I know she's safe."_

_Mick regarded Josef patiently, awaiting a response to his silent request._

"_You're determined to go through with this insanity, then?"_

"_I am."_

_After what seemed an age, Josef nodded. When had ever refused a request from Mick? Of course he'd look after the girl. But he had a bad feeling about this, a very bad feeling. _

"_You're a fool, Mick. There is a diversion here; only it's not the one you think. You're not going after Coraline because you owe her, you're going after her because you're obsessed with her. You're still caught up in the twisted game the two of you have been playing for half a century. You've always been a sucker for a damsel in distress and she's serving it up to you on a silver platter. I'll tell you this, Mick; going after Coraline is a mistake you'll regret. And when you do, don't come crying to me. I'm the one who's going to have to clean up your mess with Beth. So shall ye reap, Mick, so shall ye reap."_

_**********  
_

"I can't stand it Josef," Beth fumed. "I won't stand One. More. Day of it." She slapped both palms on his desk, leaned forward and glared at him. "Since your gorillas have been '_protecting_' me, they've broken my bathroom door - don't ask - held my pizza boy up by the ankles in the hallway, and showed fang to sweet old Mrs Kelly in number four when she tried to slide my mail under the front door!"

Her stilettos dug sharp little points into the carpet as she stalked around his office, her eyes flashing blue fire.

"I've had enough. I don't want to see them, hear them or smell them. I want them out of my face. Gone. Ker-blooey." She turned and flapped her hands at the silent offenders in a shoo-ing motion, "Amscray, vamps."

The two Easter Island statues Josef called bodyguards stood in the corner of his luxurious office, shifting their weight from foot to foot, shoulders slumped, heads bent. He rolled his eyes. They were a disgrace to the tribe. They looked like miscreant schoolboys sent to the principal's office for shooting spit balls in the hallway, and –

_Did he just see one of them flinch when Beth pointed right then? _

He regarded Beth with fresh admiration. She must really be something if she scared those boys.

Josef watched as Beth took a deep breath, only a temporary eye of the storm he was sure, and mused on the mysterious fact that above a certain decibel level a woman's voice passed beyond the normal hearing range of hearing of most men, even those of the vampire variety.

He tuned out as Beth began to gesticulate, pointing accusingly at the bodyguards, then at him, herself, and back at him again. His eyes followed her agitated pacing from one side of his office to the other as she fumed, her face a fine shade of plum, yes that was it, plum. It had been a long time since anyone had had the gumption to raise their voice toward him like this. It was positively bracing.

"Well," he shrugged non-comittally, when it seemed that she might be out of both breath and ammunition, "I'm only providing the care and attention Mick requested of me Ms Turner. I've promised to - oversee - your wellbeing while he's away. And I don't break my promises, Beth."

He said the last with an edge of steel that let her know that this vampire at least, wasn't going to give in and let her get her own way just because she was pretty and she stamped her feet and demanded it.

Her face darkened and she took a breath, ready to launch into another stinging attack.

"There is, however, _one_ way you could get rid of your little helpers over there…" he interrupted, jerking his thumb toward the corner, his face a picture of innocence.

Beth's eyebrows drew together in a suspicious knot, then shot up in a sharp arc as comprehension dawned. She crossed her arms and lowered her chin, her big blue eyes pinning him to his chair with mutinous defiance. Then she cursed, one brief, percussive utterance, and said with crystal clear enunciation the four words one should seriously consider never saying to a potentially irritated vampire.

"Over my dead body."

**********

The last of Beth's suitcases landed on the bed with a muffled thud and was unpacked with ruthless efficiency by one of Josef's many household staff. He certainly did like to surround himself with beauty. Not even the plain black uniform could disguise the older woman's stunning figure. Wonder what her other household chores included, Beth thought sourly.

"_Hey_!"

Beth snatched the lacy black thong swinging from the tip of the older woman's index finger.

"Thanks, I can take it from here."

**********

Much to her disgust Beth's days now consisted of being deposited and collected at her workplace by Josef's limousine as if she were a two-year-old at day-care centre.

"It's either that, or the men-mountains squished into the itty bitty back seat of your Prius, Beth. Your choice."

She nearly popped a capped tooth over that one, her teeth had been gritted together so hard.

And that was only the beginning of the tortures involved in staying at Castle Dracula, as she now privately referred to Josef's mansion. The head of Josef's security was positively dysfunctional about her comings and goings, accepting nothing but the exact time she'd be leaving the house, and the exact time she'd be returning, which was sort of a problem, for an investigator with the District Attorney's office. I mean, what does one say to a potential informant?

_Sorry, I can't meet you in the basement of the Biltmore Hotel at three am. I have a curfew._

And almost worse than that, all personal visitors and houseguests were banned.

"What is this, .. _Stalag 1720_?" She yelled, calling the mansion's street address down the hall after the stitched up harridan Josef called a house manager, as yet another request for company was denied.

Accepting limitations gracefully was not one of Beth's strengths. She and Josef barely spoke, or rather, she barely spoke. When they passed in the hallway, which she made sure was rarely, she'd glare and shoot him a tense smile she sincerely hoped he would recognise as being strictly of the duty variety only.

Josef, on the other hand, seemed completely unaffected by her sulks and her pouting. He asked after her comfort, promptly provided her with the equipment and resources she requested, and listened with a polite smile to her litany of complaints. He had been completely, she told Mick during one of his rare calls, at all times the soul of charm and courtesy. _The beast_!

**********

While her days were a constant torment, her nights were often worse. She slept little, always working a little harder than she had the day before to numb the pain of Mick's absence. In darkness, as she typed her reports for Talbot, only one eye would be on her laptop.

The other, of course, was glued to her cell phone.

She fretted constantly. Not knowing what his case involved, what danger he was in, or where he was staying was agony. But oh, the joy when he rang! The bliss of a long conversation with him, when he was able to snatch a few moments!

"I miss you. When are you coming home?" she'd ask again and again.

"Soon, baby, soon," he'd say.

But the weeks rolled by, and still no Mick.

**********


	2. Chapter 2

The boyfriend in college who'd taught her how to pick locks had no idea he'd inspired in Beth a lifelong fascination for getting into, and she'd discovered -- since her 'home detention' in Castle Dracula -- out of, places she wasn't supposed to. It wasn't that she was _forbidden _to leave the grounds after dark exactly, or that she couldn't imagine a scenario in which two building-sized vampires at each elbow would be an advantage, because she could. It was more that, for the most part, those self-same vampires seemed to have a distinct difficulty with the concept of stealth, and so much of her job as an investigator called for a high degree of proficiency in the ability to blend in.

"That's the point, Beth," said a poker-faced Josef when she complained for the seventeenth time that week about the visibility of her 'protection'. "Takes the guesswork out of it for anyone wondering if you had any. Besides," he went on with the ghost of a malicious smile, "being accompanied might discourage you from that nasty little habit you have of breaking and entering."

So in the end it was Josef himself who had given her the idea, only in this case, she planned a little breaking and departing.

As in everything, once she'd made the decision to find a way to leave the grounds undetected, she threw herself into the project with zeal. Admittedly, her first forays hadn't gone quite as well as she had hoped, but after only one or two artfully designed experiments to probe for holes in his security, she'd managed to discover a couple of crucial facts.

Fact number one: the grounds were patrolled day and night by guards -

_Honestly Roy, I always go for a run at three a.m. when I'm at my place and um, your hand's hurting a little, do you think you could loosen your grip a fraction, thanks, and this is just our little secret, right? You sure? I have a very rare blood type._

- with dogs.

_That's an interesting philosophical question, Roy. Could he be more adorable… hmmm … maybe a little if he removed that last tooth from the cuff of my two hundred dollar Calvin's._

And Fact number two: his gates had scanning equipment.

_K-dunk, k-dunk, k-dunk …_

Silence.

More silence.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap!

The trunk of the freshie's Lexus sedan swung open and the broad face of Josef's head of security was silhouetted by the sunlight beyond.

"Mr Kostan asked me to tell you that when you're finished shopping with Miss Serena, could you bring home a loaf of bread and a pint of milk for the cat, please?"  
  
_Thunk! K-dunk, k-dunk, k-dunk…_

After observing the pattern of the guards' patrols for more than two weeks she was now certain that she had all the bases covered. She was finally ready to make her move.

She went through the list of items in her head once more:

- one pair: tight, black stretchy jeans, check;  
- one: matching black pullover, check;  
- one: black cap to push her hair under, check;  
- black gloves, black sneakers, black backpack, check, check and check;  
- one: container of camouflage, check;

And last but not least -

One: steel chain, mini grappling hook at one end.

Check.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"_Mmmmmm.._" He loved it when Simone bit down on his earlobe; it made his body go all goosey. "My turn."

He pulled her onto his lap, smoothed the hair away from her neck, and allowed his fangs to descend. He kissed the throbbing pulse just below her left ear.

Bzzz!

"Security, sir."

"Not now."

The top button on his shirt popped open, followed by the second and the third.

_Bzzzzzzz!_

Her hand was on his zipper for Christ's sake!

"I said. _Not. Now."  
_  
"Ah," there was a slight pause, "You really need to see this, sir."

Josef sighed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two men watched on a wide screen as Beth swung the chain in a wide arc, looped it around a tree branch, snapped it taut, and began to haul herself upwards.

"Not bad," said one, admiringly, after a moment, as Beth reached the top, swung a leg over the smooth bark of the branch and began to hoist the chain up after her.

"The S.A.S crew you hired from the U.K. only got to Zone 2," said the other, nodding in agreement, as Beth shimmied to the end of the branch, stood for a moment, and leapt onto the neighbouring tree. "I must say, sir, security has never been quite as - honed - as it has been since Miss Turner has been in residence. You really ought to pay her a consulting fee."

"If this keeps up, she'll be lucky she doesn't get a one-way trip to La Brea."

They continued to sit in companionable silence as Beth advanced through the grounds, ever toward the perimeter walls, moving stealthily through the treetops.

"Just out of interest, Roy, how did she get the chain in?"

"Fashion, sir."

Josef raised his eyebrows and looked at the head of his security for the first time.

"Miss Turner wore a silver chain-link belt on her return from work every day this week. A review of the security tapes shows that she never wore one on the way out. We think she smuggled in a new section of chain every day by wearing it in around her waist."

"Ingenious." And kind of scary-smart, for a human. A suspicion was beginning to dawn that perhaps Mick was being overly cautious where Beth was concerned.

Just then, Beth wobbled on the latest branch twenty feet above Josef's imported turf, windmilling her arms wildly first one way, then other. Her feet began to slide, then slip rapidly from the curved surface of the wood toward the ground below.

Josef sighed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_That grass down there really looks amazingly springy_, thought Beth, as she changed her grip, hoping to get more purchase on the smooth bark of the tree limb. _Falling onto that won't be so bad. _

Who was she kidding? There was nothing down there for her but a world of pain and a lifetime of future orthopaedic procedures.

She swung her legs again, trying to land a foot on the tree trunk to steady herself.

"Now if it were me, I would have gone for the oak to the left," Josef said from the foot of the tree. "Much more secure. Those Eucalypt branches can be so brittle in the summertime."

She looked like a mini version of a marine commando with her sooty camouflage face and that all-black get up. He might have laughed but for the fact that her position up there really did look a little precarious.

"What?" She puffed, startled.

"To – you know – 'hang around' in, hang about on, hang down from, letting it all hang out on, as the case may be. As, well, actually," he coughed politely, "as in your case."

He pointed to her midriff where, sure enough, her pullover had ridden up exposing her belly button and the creamy skin of her abdomen. His stare seemed distinctly lascivious from up there and the impulse to remove a hand from the branch to reach down and pull her windcheater down to cover herself almost, but not quite, overcame her instinct for self preservation.

"Tell me, the ah - ?" Josef queried, pointing his index finger at his face and twirling it.

"Harper's says charcoal," she panted, wondering how much being dressed like a ninja would work against her being able to pull off sounding casual in a situation like this, "is this season's new wonder product for the complexion."

She sincerely hoped he would see through her bluster and do something soon; her wrists were beginning to burn.

Josef put his hands in his pockets, nodded, and rocked back on his heels.

"Oh," he said, "Ok." Then he walked away.

One step -- two steps. _Ok, this is the part where I'm supposed to be scared he'll leave me here. _Five -- six -- seven. _There's no way he's going to leave me here. _Eleven -- twelve -- thirteen. _He was going. He really_ _was going, the bastard. _

"Quit fucking around, Josef, and get me down from here, _NOW_!" she bellowed as he retreated.

The back of his hand rose in a cheery wave as he disappeared into the darkness beyond.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two men watched from the privacy of the control booth as a security detail arrived to retrieve a still yelling Beth from the tree, and witnessed as she was given a rousing round of applause and a clap on the back so hearty it almost sent her flying as her foot left the last rung of the ladder and landed firmly on the ground.

"Miss Simone, sir?"

"On her way home."

The head of security grimaced, and shot him a man-to-man look of commiseration.

"I know it's not my place, sir," he said, after a respectful moment of silence, "but, have you ever considered that perhaps this girl might be in less danger _outside_ of the compound?"

Josef sighed.

_A/N: the idea about someone outdoing the SAS comes from a real experience I had when working in a brand new, purpose built high security forensic psychiatric facility. Before the inmates were moved in, the SAS was commissioned to test whether it was escape-proof. They couldn't get out. Two months after inmates were moved in, a 19 year old psych patient escaped over the walls with no equipment. Go figure._


	3. Chapter 3

**Harvest III**

"Interested in some shore leave, Beth? An evening-pass out of this prison hell-hole?"

His tone was airy -- so not intended to sting her then. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, one shoulder leaning against her doorway, lips twisted in a mischievous smile.

"What do you mean?" She asked slowly, a combination of suspicion and hope flitting across her face.

"I happen to be hosting a charity bash at The Green Room tonight and I need someone on my arm who can talk politics and crime with authority. The sleazier the better."

She looked sceptical. Josef never did anything without a reason.

"Ok. Ok." Both palms rose in a gesture of surrender. "Simone had to cancel and all my girls are at a wedding. And I think if you put some effort in, Turner," the look he gave her said he wasn't holding out too much hope, "you might look presentable enough to make at least one of my business associates envious."

She gave an un-ladylike _harrumph_.

"Well, if you're not interested… "

He turned to walk away.

The screech that echoed around the marble hallway knocked out the upper register of his hearing for days.

*************************************

_Chanel, Hermes, Dior, Lagerfeld, Jacobs, Karan…. Shoes, handbags, jackets, wraps... _

Beth's eyes widened in disbelief and pleasure as rack after rack of exclusive designer gowns and accessories were wheeled into her suite.

"What…?" she'd gasped, turning to him in delighted amazement.

One crisply tailored shoulder rose in a careless shrug. It was nothing to him.

"Choose whatever you like. I need you looking your best tonight."

*************************************

This was _heaven_! Pure, farm fresh _heaven_!

She took another swallow of champagne, grinning like an idiot, and sucked in a lungful of the heady, buzzy atmosphere of the Green Room.

She was so grateful to be free of Castle Dracula for the evening she was even being pleasant to Josef. She'd smiled at him all night, wide, genuine smiles, and felt generous enough to please him by behaving with complete and total decorum toward the stuffed shirts and plastic trophy wives he happened to call his business associates.

She noticed Josef watching her with an approving wink.

"How do you like my world, Beth?"

He'd appeared out of nowhere and stood surveying the scene before him with regal satisfaction. She looked around at the obvious money in the room: men in designer suits and this year's Rolex's; women in couture fresh from last week's catwalks.

"Well… the uniform is certainly better," she laughed.

He slapped his forehead in mock horror, only just realising his lack of manners.

"I've neglected the compliment you must have been expecting."

He turned and inspected her from toe to crown. "You look beautiful, Beth."

He bowed a little then, having a joke with her. His voice, however, was sincere, and he caught her eyes and held them.

Only when he looked away did she realise that while he'd been holding her eyes, she'd been holding her breath.

*************************************

"You know, Josef, you work too hard."

It was she who was leaning against his door this time, arms crossed, tapping her toe, examining the ceiling, uncaring that his private study was off limits to houseguests.

"I think you need some R&R."

His expression darkened and the exasperated sigh he blew out with exaggerated menace would have loosened the intestines of a less foolhardy intruder.

"How did you get into this wing? Never mind. You surely can't be bored again already, Buzzwire. I took you out for a walk only last week."

The hurt expression she affected wasn't convincing.

"So cynical, Josef. Is it too hard to believe that I'm just concerned about the health and well-being of a very dear friend of mine?"

His look tells her that perhaps it is, so she tries desperation instead.

"Look, if I don't get out of here soon, I'll go totally ga-ga, men-in-white-coats lock-me-in-a-rubber-room barmy."

When his icy glare still doesn't send her scuttling out of his space, frozen tush dragging behind her, and the threat to call his security vamps merely elicits a sniff and a bored yawn, he agrees to a night out. Just one. Ladies' choice.

She beamed, not deflated at all by his stern admonition never to come to his private study again.

Half way out the door, she turned on her heel, remembering to warn him.

"Oh, and… dress down."

*************************************

"What did you say this place was again?"

"Huh?" She yelled over the din.

His lips brushed against her ear, repeating the question. He understands now why she made him change before they left. This wasn't a venue Josef would have chosen for himself -- a seedy, smoky, snake pit at the arse-end of a dark alleyway.

The grunge band at the back of the room is playing loudly, badly. Scores of young humans packed in like sardines are jumping as one, dressed in frayed t-shirts and jeans. Normally this would be a, rub-your-hands-together boys, all-you-can-eat buffet for a vampire, but these days Josef has hygiene standards for his food.

She looked amused at his obvious dismay, but taking pity on him, grabs him by the hand, pulling him along a dark corridor to a smaller room, where the low tones of the intimate break beats are less damaging to sensitive vampire eardrums.

She threw herself down on the worn velvet sofa, a marvel that had somehow survived the seventies, and patted the place beside her, clearly enjoying his discomfort. He looked with consternation at the worn surface of the red velvet, at some familiar-looking chalky stains that wouldn't be, surely couldn't be…!

He wondered if he could get by with just standing.

"Oh come on, Josef. You're not going to go all Howard Hughes on me, are you?" she teased, interpreting his hesitation with uncanny accuracy and grabbing his hand, she pulled him down to the cushioned surface. "Do _all_ you uber-rich guys have BCD?"

"What?"

"Billionaire Crazy Disease," she laughed, twirling a finger around her ear.

He doesn't know this Beth, her face half shadowed by the fringed yellow lampshade in the corner, a Cheshire cat smile all that is visible of her beautiful face. Frankly, he's a little disoriented by the music and the thaw in her demeanour.

He looks at her quizzically as she's on her feet again shortly after, hugging her handbag to her side.

"I'm going to take something." Her tone brooked no argument, her meaning escaping him for a moment. "After six weeks in Castle.. ah ..Camp Josef, I think I deserve it."

He'd figured it out by the time she'd come back from the bathroom. Drugs were a definite no-no in his establishment. He preferred his meals unadulterated. The disapproving look he gives her would have reduced one of his girls to tears.

Strangely, the brazen grin and pink tongue poked in his direction reassure him, reminding him that she isn't one of his girls, she's her own woman, and makes her own decisions. The knowledge allows him to relax into the overstuffed cushions, arms outstretched along the back of the sofa, watching the crowd. Watching her.

He notices with curiosity the changes in her heart beat, the softening of her demeanour as the substance speeds through her system. Smiling, she nods in time with the complex throbbing beats, chatting to resting strangers beside them on the sofa, touching a knee here or an elbow there, full of loving-kindness.

Time after time, just when he feels she has become too engrossed in a new acquaintance to remember he's there, she raises her fingertips to his, allowing them to linger, warming his frozen finger pads, reassuring him that he's not forgotten.

And some time later, he thinks –

_Is she crazy?_ _Josef Kostan doesn't dance._

- and even if he did, there's no way in hell he'll dance here, to this, even though she pleads, her big blue eyes a wrecking ball against the barricade of his dignified refusal. No -- he's faced down more impressive opponents over the centuries than her -- he's content to just sit and watch as she disappears into the music, her body a conduit for the repetitive rhythms, her movements liquid, sensual.

For some reason he can't take his eyes off her as she dances; her eyelids lower and she's away, lost within the dark tempo of the strange music, her shoulders and hips rolling in counterpoint, her hands tracing graceful circles at her sides.

_Mother of God, but she's sexy._

When she dances she totally abandons herself to the rhythm. If what they say is true, and the way a woman moves to music is an indication of what she's like in bed, then Mickey-boy is one lucky son of a bitch.

Finally out of breath, she moves back into his orbit, taking liberties, squeezing her body into the space between his side and the cushioned end of the sofa. She raises his arm to make room for herself and places it around her shoulders almost as if she has never lost her temper and shouted that she wished to skewer his black heart to the back of his office wall with the sharpest silver implement she could find.

He wonders at this small physical intimacy after her extended hostility, but the look she gives him is childlike and open, innocent. He'd swear she was a pious country virgin if he didn't know she could be arrested for the contents of her handbag right now.

And then they talk.

They talk all night about everything and nothing. He gets used to the absent-minded way she strokes his hand while she's talking, he even begins to enjoy the affectionate non-demanding tenor of it, and the first laugh takes him by surprise. She's not at all the shallow, spoiled ingénue he's believed her to be and he's genuinely enjoying her company.

While they talk, her gaze is rapt, her attention to his conversation so intent, that even though he knows the substance has reduced her inhibitions, she makes him feel as if she's interested in him, Vassily Josef Konstantin, the lonely boy underneath the layers of time, not Josef Kostan, arrogant twenty first century billionaire.

Then it dawns on him. Her fascinated curiosity is genuine. The drug hasn't given her an interest in him, merely allowed her to relax and show it.

It's an extraordinary sensation after all these centuries of being feared and fawned over, when someone relates to him and not to his money or his vampire gifts, and it almost takes what little breath he has away. This is why Mick's friendship is so very important to him; and why he can never truly fall in love with any of the harem who adore him, and why now he is beginning to feel a spider's thread of interest in building some sort of genuine connection with this prickly girl despite the grief she's been causing him.

For Mick's sake, of course.

And eventually, as he knew they would, they talk about Mick. Josef's not a fool, he won't tell her that Mick is in France or what he's doing there, but he feels for her, he'll listen and be sympathetic. After all, he knows what it's like to wait for someone.

She smiles, a beatific smile, when she discusses Mick, but he can sense an undercurrent, a feeling there waiting to surface. He inclines his head in silent acknowledgement when it does.

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" she asks, doubt cracking her voice. "Desirable?"

She looks down at the spot her fingernail is tracing on his denim-covered thigh when she asks, and the golden trace of lamplight along the cut glass contour of her profile emphasises her classic, ethereal beauty.

He's not sure where this is going, whether he should be worried that a drug affected Beth might be propositioning him, or whether the greater concern right now is that he might be tempted, if she does.

"Yes," he said, relieved that the socially acceptable answer is also the truthful one. "Mick must tell you so all the time."

She's silent for longer than he expected, and when she finally does speak, her words are not what he anticipates.

"He won't touch me," she says, all crushed ardour and innocence, her eyes downcast, her palm still warming circles near his inner thigh.

He hopes the light is dim enough to hide the shock on his face. That can't be right, they've been a couple now for almost five months.

"Oh we -- touch --," she says, "..but he won't – "

Josef understands, finally. She is precious, and Mick is taking his time to introduce her to the most dangerous vampire intimacy of all. This, he can help her with.

"Passion is a very powerful thing, Beth. It requires a lot of skill to control the bite during lovemaking, so that the other person, if they're human, isn't hurt." _Or worse. _"He's been out of action for a while. I'm sure he just wants to prepare himself and you properly by getting used to the excitement before he - ."

He pantomimes a biting action and the look she gives him is pained. Apparently he hasn't understood at all.

"We don't… don't.."

"You and Mick don't have sex?"

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^


	4. Chapter 4

**Harvest -- IV**

He has no doubt, God help him, that in her current state she would be more than willing to share the intimate details of their life – as if this evening hasn't stretched his comfort zone enough already. He really, _really_, doesn't want know the ins and outs - or lack of, so to speak - of their relationship, and suspects that in the morning, when whatever it is she has taken has worn off, any further disclosure now might shame her, give her cause to escalate the undeclared war in which they've been engaged since her unrelished occupancy of his mansion.

Josef glanced down at Beth and sighed. He is beginning to think that, if given the choice, he would gladly have traded Mick, taken the option of waltzing into Chateau DuVall himself to rescue Coraline, rather than having to play Daddy and wrestle the intricacies of Beth's too-boisterous humanity up-close-and-personal like this.

_Thanks, Mick, yeah, thanks a lot for that buddy._

And thinking of Mick -- Josef is incredulous -- _Has his fledgling completely lost his mind?_ The boy is more damaged by his human moral code than Josef had believed. What can he possibly be thinking? This woman _burns_ for him, and he runs halfway across the world for a wife who only seems to want him when he's finally found someone else! Josef shakes his head in disbelief.

Before tonight, after all the shenanigans she has pulled in his home, his_ haven_, Josef would gladly have delivered Beth's cold, dead body personally to the cleaners if the opportunity had arisen.

_My condolences, Mick. That open manhole just came out of nowhere._

Or even - as an image floods his mind for the umpteenth time of his hands around her pretty little neck -

_I swear we were only roughhousing over the TV remote, Mick. You know how fragile humans are._

Despite fulfilling his obligations to Mick with the fastidiousness he is famous for, he has never really warmed to the difficult girl their friendship has foisted upon him. But he's _seen_ her now, really _seen_ her, and she's like him, all brass and armour over tender vulnerability and he won't forget it.

And while she is pining here, speaking of deeply private matters to a man she has barely acknowledged for the last two months, Mick may well be making love to the woman who has had him by the balls for decades. He snorts. Coraline is almost as old as Josef himself, and is more than wily enough to take care of herself.

Josef has seen this irrational behaviour about Coraline from Mick many times; only this time it fills him with a wintry fury. Mick has been granted the privilege of finding a love Josef waited over four hundred years for, is still waiting for, and he's squandering it, as if this soul deep connection to another were a product one could shop for on a supermarket shelf. He shakes his head and wonders for a moment whether having Mick horse-whipped on his return might knock some sense into him.

A small sigh disturbs his reverie and Josef looks down at the soft blonde hair falling over his sleeve. Her big blue eyes blink up at him, the pink flush of emotion on her cheeks making her more beautiful than any makeup she might apply ever will. Her luscious beauty cries out to be swallowed whole, yet Mick won't even nibble at the edges.

Fortunately, Josef has managed to forestall any further conversation about the lunacy of his brother's sexual policy by insisting they leave the club before sunrise. For the first time he is grateful that she is intoxicated, for she is more compliant and hasn't yet pushed him to comment on her disclosure.

She will though. She will.

But for now she is curled up against him in the limousine in the attitude of a small child held close by a trusted relative. The drug has allowed her to seek emotional intimacy in the arms of the vampire she despises, because physical intimacy has been denied to her in the arms of the one she loves.

He had intended to chastise her about the substance use tomorrow, but now he thinks not, for he, too, knows the torment of craving the touch of a beloved that never comes. He, too, is always willing to indulge his desires if it will dull the ache of abandonment for brief moments.

He will forbid her possession of the substance on legal grounds certainly, for the trouble it could bring into the compound, definitely. He'll ask her to hand over anything remaining tomorrow morning and have her suite searched thoroughly over her screaming howls of protest if need be, but no, he'll neither punish, nor sit in judgement of her for having used it to turn the tide this evening and attain a fleeting moment of solace.

He is unaware of it, but he has just made the unconscious decision to commit fully to the role of her guardian thrust upon him by Mick. He strokes her hair in absent-minded consolation and is unaware that he will soon be entering dangerous waters.

********************************

All predators are voyeurs and he is no stranger to waiting and watching as a woman disrobes. He is unfamiliar, though, with being an interloper in his own home, standing on her balcony in the dark before dawn. He doesn't understand it, doesn't want to. He just tells himself his vigil by her window is the act of a responsible adult, monitoring the effects of the unknown substance in her system, his concern merely avuncular.

He averts his eyes when she walks naked from the bathroom, her flesh rosy from the shower, lifting his head only when he hears her slip between the sheets, her modesty no longer an issue.

She is obviously unharmed by the substance and he doesn't know then what he is waiting for. But when he hears the gentle susurration of skin sliding against cotton, the soft but sharp increase in tempo of her indrawn breaths, he wonders whether it might have been for this. He feels no guilt at this intrusion; merely surprise that he desired an extension of the shared intimacy of their evening so much that it has ended here. Then it strikes him, like a sudden sharp blow to his solar plexes -- _he misses Sara. Sweet Jesus, he misses Sara. _For a moment the astringent tang of true loneliness fills his mouth and he combs a shaking hand through his cropped hair in an unfamiliar gesture of defeat.

Her breath is louder now, and the name, when she finally calls it, is an elongated sigh of pleasure.

_Mick_. _Oh, yes Mick. Yes. _

Hearing it makes him shiver. She loves him. She really does love him.

He tells himself that the metallic taste in his mouth is anger at his friend's stupidity, and he marvels at Mick's self-control, having this and not eating it whole. He flips his phone open with a savage flick of his wrist.

"Send me Cherry."

He needs to bite down, hard, and she enjoys a little pain.

By the time she rolls to her side ready for sleep, he is already gone.

*********************************

That first evening with Josef has broken the ice.

The innocent, easygoing warmth bestowed on him during her intoxication is never again referred to, but neither is it forgotten by either of them. It sets the tone for all her interactions with him now, and as is her style, she pushes the limits, expecting to get her way.

She breezes past his private secretary, an airy wave her only acknowledgement of the seething beauty behind the desk, and barges into his office, already talking.

".. so I'm meeting a lead at a dodgy downtown bar late tonight and I need you to come with me. For my safety, you know -- wouldn't want to risk that."

She pulls a face in response to his stony glare, and looks around in mock confusion. "What? You can't leave because you only made a million today? You won't have enough pocket change to pay the pool guy this week?"

"Rocco," he says to her finally, after a cool, hard stare and jerks his thumb toward the monolith in the corner, before turning his back on her, engrossed in his conversation with his junior traders.

The sound she makes leaves Josef in no doubt that she's not at all impressed by his suggestion.

"I need someone who can pass for a _homo sapiens_. No offence big guy. Besides, he'll scare my contact away."

She blinks, waiting, an infuriatingly persistent child. She knows she has him when she sees his shoulders stiffen, the back of his head lower before he turns, regarding her with a deceptively bland face.

"What's the difference between a vampire billionaire and a vampire bodyguard, Beth?"

"Aaaah, I don't know, Josef?" she says, knowing that beneath his bland exterior her impudent confidence is surely needling him.

"Clearly." His tone is biting. "You might not have anything better to do, but as you can see, I'm working here. If you weren't Mick's favourite pet I'd tie an anvil to your ankle and drop you into the tar pits myself."

She grinned. "Consider me intimidated. Can we go now?" He was coming, he just didn't know it yet.

"Ok, then, " she sighed when he didn't move, adding a little girl lilt to her voice. "I guess I'll just have to go meet my ex-con sex offender stoolie all by myself. I'll be in a lot of danger, a helpless little girl like me, in the bad part of town, all on her own. In her stilettos." She pulled up her trousers to let him see. "Most likely I'll be mugged or -- "

Even though he doesn't blink, move a muscle, she has him, suspects in fact, that he secretly enjoys these random encounters, the chaos she brings a welcome relief to his regimented routine. She is positive he will accompany her when he says, "You - ? Helpless - ? Doll face, you're about as helpless as a piranha in a goldfish pond."

As a last minute salve to his pride he makes sure he growls at her for just long enough before he gives in.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Although he works from dusk til dawn most nights, she's finding it much easier to persuade him to allow her some freedom from the restrictions of Camp Josef. The occasional evenings become more frequent, and neither of them comments that it is he, rather than a bodyguard, who has begun to accompany her.

In an underground exhibition space they share cheap wine with avant-garde artists who harass Josef shamelessly for commissions; in a tiny bar with no discernible name they share deep philosophical discussions with ex-pat journalists bemoaning the need to provide two minute entertainment reports for their home networks when wars are raging overseas.

On one or two evenings when Simone is working, he takes revenge on Beth by escorting her to black tie business functions, where she rests her head on the table and pretends to snore when she sees that nobody else but Josef is looking.

She doesn't notice lately that he's always looking.

These evenings usually end with them walking along an empty avenue, limousine trailing a discreet distance behind, their easy camaraderie evident in the way her shoulder nudges his to let him know she has only been teasing or in the way he rolls his eyes with affectionate disdain when she's become too pushy, said something too _human_.

They discuss a variety of issues as shadows begin to separate from the soothing darkness, the first timid rays of sunrise smudging elongated copies of the surrounding buildings along the pavement ahead, but it always comes back to one thing.

"Come on, Josef, you promised. How do I please a vampire?"

************************


	5. Chapter 5

**Harvest V**

**  
.**

"_Come on Charles, you promised. How do I please a vampire?"_

_She is laughing, green eyes crinkling, open-mouthed, her too red lips shiny from his kisses. Fingertips flutter against his sides like butterfly wings and he guffaws, twisting first one way, then the other, his insides molten taffy when she looks at him like that, honored that it's he and not someone else play acting the vulnerability that amuses her so. His leg hooks around hers and they roll, his weight pinning her to the bed. _

"_Hmmm…. I'm partial to learning by trial and error," he says and buries his nose into the creamy nape of her neck, shaking his head like a dog with a bone, smiling into the shallow folds of her skin as she shrieks in delight. All's fair in love, war and tickle fights – it's her turn now. His experienced fingers leave no sensitive hollow unexplored and she writhes, giggling between gasps. _

_She's not a pushover, however, and while she may be out of breath, she's not brainless._

"_You're avoiding the question," she says later, when her breathing has steadied. Her eyes are smiling, but twin lines of serious intent are pencilled between her brows. "Come on … "_

_. _

"… Josef. Stop avoiding and _give_." A sharp pinch shatters the illusion.

"Ow." He looks down, rubs at the injury zone, hoping to sound affronted enough to distract her. "I think you broke the skin."

"Wuss."

"Vampire-abuser. That sort of thing only escalates you know," he sniffs, not convincing her at all that the school-boy pique is genuine. "Sure it starts with a pinch -- next thing you know there's a stake through your heart and she's yelling you're just like your good-for-nothing sire."

His preening, his almost-ruffled demeanour is irresistible. Her blue eyes sparkle up at him, standing there, smoothing his dignity along with his suit jacket like he's someone important, only a self-made billionaire perhaps.

A gleam of mischief flares and in a suspiciously over-concerned voice she says, "Ohhh, poor Josef, you're right. I'm so sorry. That hurt, did it?" He's become far too comfortable by the centuries of respectful restraint shown him to be alerted by her tone. "Guess if I really want an answer I can always torture it out of you."

Her fingers fly over his chest and arms almost too fast for him to see, poking, prodding, pinching, and she's laughing, a high infectious giggle that for some god-forsaken reason warms him to his fingertips. He steps back, twisting, turning, hands up in a futile attempt to escape the onslaught.

That's it. It's official. She's a total menace. She's really putting a serious dent in his sober façade now. Oh, he's trying hard to shore it up, but it can't last, and it doesn't, crumbling under the blitz. They're both smiling now.

And then they're not. Not smiling. They're not even breathing.

He looks like he's praying, her hands caught between the flats of his palms like that. And he notices nothing; not the fact that there's a lone tendril of hair curling on her collarbone, or that the radiant flush on her cheeks matches the exact shade of pink of the roses he planted on his mother's grave. All he sees are the twin points of light reflected in the dark of her eyes and they're pulling at him, tugging at him, as if they're a barb and he an ill-fated fish.

The limousine has withdrawn in well-judged discretion. They're alone. And then she inhales. Her breathing sounds loud, even to her own ears. Someone has to say something. And….

.. it's ladies first.

"What time is it?"

As if the breaking dawn doesn't give it away.

He releases her hands and her head bends over her wrist for longer than it needs for her to read the hour. She takes a chance, looks up, finds that it's ok, it's just Josef again.

Always an accurate barometer of his mood, the limousine has reappeared at the kerb beside him.

"Time to get you home for your beauty rest, Blondie. You're always such a delight when you miss it."

The delicate sting in his voice is perfect. Nothing has happened, nothing at all.

.

*********  
.

They're careful with one another, after that – please's, thankyou's, polite nods as they pass in the hallway. Beth on her best behaviour makes Josef a little nervous, like having a new kitten and never being sure where or when it's going to leap out at you from the shadows. The one consolation is that it can't possibly last.

"What the hell is this infernal racket?"

His hands are on his hips and he's really cross. He's had to interrupt an important phone call to come down here and investigate. He's had a hell of a day and there are house rules about this sort of thing. It's only just after midnight and all the lights are on in the human kitchen, along with sounds of rummaging and headache-inducing _noise_.

A pink pajama-ed bottom is bobbing up and down at the freezer door, wiggling in time, if he's not mistaken, with the humming coming from it's frosty depths.

She straightens, spooning a high-rise sized portion of Cookie's'n'Cream into her mouth, the earphones of her iPod plugged so firmly into her ears she doesn't notice him at first. She's playing, inventing funky dance moves that forge new routes from container to mouth and back again. She twirls, eyes widening at his grim-faced presence in the doorway.

"Want some?" she says with an unladylike full mouth, lifting the spoon in salute and licking it.

"What I want. In my own home. Is some respect." It's the tone he uses when he's about to fire someone, Josef-style, and she should be very, very worried. He should know by now, she pays as much attention to his warning signs as she does to other people's locked doors.

"Good choice," she nods approvingly and throws back her head. "_What you want, baby I got it. What you nee-ee-eed, you know I got_…"

Dear God she was shimmying his way. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

"_All I'm asking for-hor…" _

She had the sense to stop at his raised palm. It's almost impossible to maintain his rage when she's as brazenly cheerful as this, but he's trying, infusing as much sarcasm as he can into his next words.

"Wild guess. Good day?"

"Another criminal kingpin off the sultry streets of L.A. for the rest of his miserable lifetime," she beamed, "thanks to the keenly honed investigative skills and outright cunning of one Bethany Frances Turner. Oh yeah, uh huh.."

He doesn't show it, but he's amused against his will by the gleeful little jig, and he rolls his eyes, feeling his temper dissolve like early morning fog in direct sunlight. He normally doesn't give a hoot about human affairs unless they affect him directly, but her good humour appears to be precisely the tonic he needs after his own shitty day.

In the long run, it won't to him any good to let her off lightly though. He brandishes a warning finger in her face. "If you sing – _or_ _dance_ – again, I'll have you stiffed."

"Snuffed."

"Whatever. But if you're a good little girl and come along quietly with Uncle Josef you can have something much, much better to celebrate with than ice-cream."

.

******************

* * *

The something much much better is in an old-fashioned wooden packing crate that gives up without a great fight, bleeding yellow packing straw onto his hair, the desk, the floor of his normally pristine private study. His sleeves are rolled up, his arms buried to the elbows in its innards, a vampire veterinarian giving birth to –

" - Chateau Mouton-Rothschild '86." He cradled the newborn reverently between his palms, blew the dust off its label like he was bestowing a blessing. "That's _eighteen_-eighty six to you, Short-Timer."

She's sitting cross-legged on his sofa; a pink mohair wrapped mini-Buddha whose hair echoes the same discipline as the French packing straw surrounding her.

He pulls the cork, pours a glass, passes it to her.

"Hold it in your palm, the warmth helps to release it's aromas. Now swirl."

He's leaning against his desk, glass in hand, long legs pointed in her direction. Her eyes follow him, mimicking every action to the millimetre.

"Breathe in. What can you smell?"

"Umm… it's soft, a little earthy.. rose petals and jam."

Not bad.

"Now taste a little. Hold it in your open mouth and allow the air to wash over it."

She does, closing her eyes. "Mmmm….. tastes like dessert. Blackforest cake. … rasperries and chocolate." It's an outlandish thing to say and her eyes crash open, expecting ridicule.

"That surely can't be from out of the mouth of the Beth-barbarian I've been housing, can it?" She's been spot on and not afraid to speak her mind. He's impressed.

Her body warms in the sunshine of his approval and she beams right back at him, holds out her glass.

"Please sir," she says in a cheeky Cockney accent, "can I have some more?"

When they're three-quarters through that bottle he unlocks the door to his private cellar and brings up several more, seminal reds from Spain, Australia, their own Napa Valley. She's an apt pupil. He's impressed by her intelligent questions about grape varieties, wine-making techniques and _terroir_.

The half finished open bottles are worth several thousand dollars and will be ruined, but educating her palate has helped relax and make him forget his losses on the market today so completely he figures he's getting an ok deal.

.

***************

.

It's late. They're at either ends of the sofa now, his legs crossed at the ankles on the Persian carpet before him, hers barefoot along the sofa, her toes mere flexing distance from his outstretched thighs. It's a companionable silence and he knows she's a little tight when she taps his thigh with her big toe and expresses an opinion.

"Vampire sex must be incredible."

"Nothing out of the ordinary," he lied.

"Oh come on, Josef." The ball of her foot pressed against his leg for emphasis. "I've heard the girls talking. I saw Simone with you and Mick in his apartment."

"Ok. It has its moments."

Both feet are kneading his thigh now, like a kitten bedding down for the night. "Tell me everything," she says.

Her blue eyes are wide open and challenging; he must be crazy to contemplate going down this road with her, but after seven blood-tinged shirazes, maybe she's not the only one who's a little tight. He lifts her foot in absent-minded affection, circling her ankle with his thumb, clockwise, counter-clockwise, her skin as smooth as satin.

"What do you want to know?"

"Do vampires ever have erectile dysfunction?"

"Jesus, Beth," he sputtered. "And here I was worried I might have to go out of my way in this conversation to protect your delicate human sensibilities. Let me know in advance, will you?" He waggled his half empty glass. "I'm going to need another drink if the vampire/domestic farm animal question is coming up anytime soon."

"I'll take that as an embarrassed and very personal 'yes', will I?" she taunted, pressing her foot even more firmly into the palm of his hand.

"You will not, impertinent human. Vampires are paragons of physical perfection. We have no problem getting hard." He squeezed her ankle on the very last syllable to make sure she knew just exactly how hard.

"Never?"

"Never."

Something was swimming beneath her eyes then, something he should have, would have picked up on had he been completely sober.

He should understand but doesn't even when her face colors and she asks in a low, urgent voice, "What does a woman have to do to make you hard? Turn you on? Make you so crazy you'll do anything just to have her?"

His eyes are bright and he feels an icy flush in the vicinity of his groin. Is she making an advance or is she asking about vampires in general?

"Any of your kind, that is," she says, still regarding him with owlish intensity, her other foot massaging his upper leg. But her clarification comes a couple of beats too late to convince him that was all she meant.

Somehow his hand has found it's way under the end of her pyjama leg and is massaging her lower calf. "That depends, Beth. On the individual vampire."

She's watching him over the rim of her near-empty glass, he can't take his eyes off the fingers trailing up and down the sensitive skin of her inner wrist.

"Some vampires like to play cat and mouse. Some vampires like to dominate. Some vampires like a little pain with their pleasure." His fingernails scrape all the way down her Achilles tendon.

Her heartbeat is accelerating, an aroma rising from her skin in smoky circles. There's no doubting what's going on here, and the line is so very close to being crossed, but it won't be by him. He pulls back, his thumb resuming its friendly circumnavigation of her ankle bone.

It seems that she has too. "Look," the glass is waving at him in not quite coordinated inquiry, "I'm all out."

"Ok doll-face, but after this I'm cutting you off."

.

*******************

.

He's ordered her to bed the second time he sees her eyelids droop, but stops her as she stumbles against the sofa. She's more intoxicated than he's realised.

"Come on you little Lush, I'll help you up the stairs."

He only meant her to drape an arm over his shoulder, but she holds her arm out to him like a small child and there is nothing for it but to bend low and allow her to lock her arms around his neck. His hands slide under the back of her thighs, and he straightens, cinching her tight until he is certain of his grip. The cold tip of her nose presses against the place his jugular used to pulse and she wriggles a little, settling into the security of his arms. The sigh is a sound of such pure satisfaction it reverberates right down to his kneecaps.

"Josef," she said sleepily, "Can I ask a question?"

A question. More deadly in her hands than an M-16.

"Fire away, Blondie."

"You smell nice."

Nope, nothing else is coming. "That's not a question."

"It isn't?"

"Not unless they changed the basic rules of English grammar when I wasn't looking, Cookie."

"Oh."

Her body sways against his as they ascend the stairs.

A few moments later, "Josef?"

"Yes, Beth."

"Do you like me?"

The pause was so slight she didn't notice.

"You're a royal pain in my vampire ass, Buzzwire, you know that."

"Sure," she waved a dismissive, uncoordinated hand, "But do you like me?"

She wondered why they'd stopped, raised her head from his shoulder. His face needs to lower only a fraction for his mouth to graze against her upturned lips.

They're standing at her sealed bedroom door.

.

*************


	6. Chapter 6

**Harvest VI**

**.**

He's not quite sure how to answer that without complicating everything, and she's looking at him as if expecting a response.

"Don't tell me you need an invitation before you can you cross the thress..," she stops, blinks, concentrates, "_thresh-_hold!"

"I certainly do."

Her pretty mouth forms an 'O' of surprise. "Because you're a vampire?"

"Because I'm a gentleman."

Although his face is positively still, the warmth in his eyes makes her smile. She lifts an index finger and waves it in an imperious, not-quite symmetrical circle.

"Then tally-ho my good … vampire-type person."

The alcohol really has hit her hard in the last ten minutes.

.

*******************

.

She seems to have fallen asleep in the few seconds it's taken him to cross her floor. Just as well. He flips back the coverlet and lowers her to the bed, pushes a stray hair off her face and turns to leave, but she catches his wrist, pulls him in close, raises a hand to his head. He's startled, almost pulls back when her fingers comb through his hair.

"Straw," she whispered sleepily, "from your crate of Moulin Rouge."

He's really got to leave now, but her hand slides down his wrist and she laces her fingers between his like a little girl and she yawns, her eyelids heavy and says,

"You know, you're really a very nice man underneath all that vampire. You need a girlfriend. Someone to take care of _you _for a change."

It had gotten to the Dear Abby part of the evening. He hated it when that happened.

"You really have been very good to me. Oh, don't get me wrong, you can be a mean and ruthless and you always try to scare me with that Josef-look you do. Yes you _do_," she said firmly as he raised his eyebrows in mock objection, "and I've tried hard not to like you, I really have, but it's just not working. You do you like me don't you, Josef? Enough to be friends? Real friends, I mean. Friends like you and Mick."

A friend? She wanted to be _friends_? Even if friendship was the type of 'ship' he wanted, vampires did human friends the way heiresses do the poor. As good PR.

"You do, don't you?" She was smiling up at him. "Even though I mess up."

"You are a hellion," he said mildly.

" - a headache.. ", she nodded.

" - a pest.."

".. a plague.."

He was shaking his head. "You my dear, are a complete vexation."

He'd totally forgotten the liquor, because her smile only held for a moment, her voice wobbling in the unique tone of remorse that only the intoxicated can manage.

"Oh, I really am just a nuisance to you, aren't I?"

"Beth, Beth," Josef interrupted, trying to keep a straight face. "Your kind of trouble is nothing I can't handle. Been doing it for centuries."

"So I _am_ trouble," she wailed.

He winced. Living with tame refreshment meant he sometimes forgot a few of the hidden traps of female communication.

"No you're not, you're a de_light_," he disagreed, knowing the sarcasm was too light to penetrate her haze.

"No," she sniffed, and said with perfect accuracy, "I'm _trouble_."

And then her head tilted back to look up at the long, long length of him standing there by her bedside and her eyes narrowed and she regarded him with what looked suspiciously like 'a purpose' on her face.

"You know, Josef, it's time I gave something back," she ordered, pulling at his wrist. "Sit down. Sit. Down."

She wobbled to her feet on the springy king-size mattress and pressed down with both hands on his shoulders. "You. Are the most uptight individual I know."

This couldn't possibly end well. To stop this he'd have to put his arms around her and given the circumstances, he really didn't think that would make the top ten in the history of good ideas. Or even the top one thousand. He took the path of least resistance and sat on the very edge of her bed. She shimmied in close, her fingers tightening around his neck. He flinched.

"Relax Josef, I'm not going to cut your throat," She unfastened the topmost of his buttons, "just work out some of the knots in your neck. Now stop fighting me and let me loosen your collar."

The first four buttons popped open and she began to ease the shirt down and off his shoulders. His hand caught her fingers as she reached around his abdomen for the fifth.

"Beth, when I'm with a lady, Mr Shirt only comes off if Mr Trousers is going to keep him company on the floor. They're close that way. They get lonely."

"Lucky, I'm no lady," she grinned. "And you can tell Mr Trousers to relax. This is just a trial separation. Mr Shirt will be tucked back under his waistband before he knows it." She lay his shirt across the bed. "I only want to ease the knots out of your shoulders not put a rocket in your pocket, so shut up and stay still. There's an artiste at work here."

.

**************

.

"Ohhhhhhmmmm… "

She wasn't wrong. Her thumbs were pressing into the junction of his neck and shoulder and rotating in lazy circles. He stifled another groan and his eyes rolled back into his head. She was good. She was very good.

She'd been massaging him in silent concentration for ten minutes now, her warm breath blowing across his ear like a midnight breeze. Odd random tingles fluttered in his belly every time her hair brushed the bare skin of his back and he felt a languid stirring in his groin. He steeled himself against the growing temptation to lean back into her.

"So you want to know how to please a vampire."

The sentence was out before he'd even realised he'd been thinking about it. _Shit._ Oh well, in for a penny…

"Does that mean vampires in general or just the specifics of what gets ah, a _rise,_ out of Mick, because if it's the latter, I have to tell you, it's not like your boy Mick and I have sleepovers and braid each other's hair."

He'd seen enough of Mick in action a couple of decades ago to have a fairly good idea of what stoked his friend's fire, but that wasn't his information to share. Her fingers had stopped, even her breathing had stopped. She was listening.

"Ok Blondie, I get it. It's kind of hard to know exactly where to start. How about you tell me what's been happening, then maybe I can tell you what's going wrong."

Her blush warmed the back of his neck.

"Ok," she said slowly. Then bit her lip, looked over his head, at the door, at the silk throw under her knees. She took a breath.

"It wasn't like the relationships I've had with other men. No, not because he was a vampire," she said, cutting off Josef's retort, "but because he was, well, sweet. Old-fashioned. At first he'd only hold my hand, kiss me, touch me above the waist, you know, that kind of thing. Said that anything else wasn't proper in the early stage of our courting." She rolled her eyes. "He said he wanted to be sure I wanted to, before we took the next step."

"Go on."

"After about a couple of months he started to relax a bit more, lie on the sofa with me," she paused, "undo _all_ the buttons on my blouse."

He turned to look at her. Her eyes had glazed. He could see they were happy memories.

"The first few times it was all very normal. Like the boys I'd been with in college. You know, both of us a little nervous, a little excited. Gentle with each other. He seemed to like what was happening."

"Ok, nice big tick for the petting stage. So where's the problem?"

Her face was really red now. The heat of her embarrassment was like a blast furnace at this range.

"We argued about it. I wanted to go further. He said that sort of intimacy was for marriage. I called him a prude, he called me impatient." She smiled a grim, private little smile. "I won."

"Of course you did, Buzzwire, of course you did." Josef drawled. "So what happened?"

"The first time he let me touch his.. let me touch him," she grimaced, closed her eyes. "The sound. I thought he was in pain."

Josef sat up. After all that time, the waiting, the self-denial, all that unrequited stalking… The feel of her hand on his cock must have been exquisite.

"But you didn't stop." Not a question, a slightly accusatory statement.

She blushed. "No, ..I was..," she looked at him defiantly, "I wanted him."

She could hear each movement as the second hand of the clock in the corner ticked away the hour.

"What happened then," he said at last.

She looked away, the edges of her mouth turned down. "Nothing happened then."

Josef frowned, gave the universal palms up sign of incomprehension.

"He told me it wasn't me. That he was just tired." She sighed and when she spoke her voice sounded sad. "He couldn't… He couldn't come, ok."

.

*****************

.


	7. Chapter 7

**Harvest VII**

**.**

**.**

He'd made her stop when he heard the pain in her voice and propped himself against the bed head. With nothing to keep her hands busy, Beth curled into herself beside him, ankles crossed, knees hugged tight to her chest.

"He didn't want to bite you," Josef said, almost to himself. It was the only explanation. He knew Beth wouldn't understand; he needed to explain this, help her realise that whatever was going on, it wasn't her fault. His voice softened. "Vampires find it difficult to finish the act if they don't bite down, Beth."

She winced and when she spoke her tone was bitter. "Act? There was no act. It didn't get far enough for 'acting'."

"What do you mean?"

"I kept.. _touching_.. him and right at the point of, you know, he changed.. - his eyes - his fangs - " Her hands began to rub her upper arms. "He wasn't himself - squeezed me a little too hard."

_That meant he'd hurt her, maybe even frightened her_.

"That gave me a start. I gasped." She looked at Josef pleadingly, "I didn't mean to. I didn't _mean_ to."

"Of course you didn't," he said in a soothing voice. That wouldn't have mattered to Mick though. The fear is all he would have seen. "What did Mick do?"

"He made me stop. I begged him to let me keep going, to let me please him, but he shoved me away. Jumped up. Grabbed his coat. Practically ran out of the house."

Josef could see it now, the overwhelming passion, the prospect of a mind-blowing fuck at long last with the woman of his dreams, the Vampire exploding out him, needing to rend, to swallow, to fuse with the beloved, become one. Then to see that terror in her eyes… no wonder he lit out of there like the devil himself was on his tail. Jesus, she was lucky Mick had had eighty-five years to perfect at least that much self-control.

He kept his voice steady and asked, "And then?"

"It took a little convincing, but after that we tried another couple of times, slower, more clothing, less petting. He seemed to be okay about it, but each time I thought we were getting somewhere, he'd stop, tell me he needed to meet a client, an informant, drive to Santa Monica for a document drop, pick up a client's daughter from the airport. Pretty soon it was back to hand holding and he was 'too busy' even to pretend to want to unzip my Levi's."

She cradled her face in her hands. "Oh God, Josef, what's going on? How do I fix this?"

The tone in her voice was too anguished. She wasn't telling him everything.

"What did you do, Beth? What did you _do_?"

When she looked up her eyes were blazing with self-recrimination.

"I'll tell you what I did. I'll tell you what I did and you'll hate me for it. Even if he didn't want to come, I did. I wanted him so much I was out of my mind. I made him touch me. I told him if he didn't, we wouldn't have a future."

Christ. Mick had been giving clear indications that he doubted his ability to control the Vampire around her when he became aroused. An out of control Vampire Mick was like a revolver and when she forced his hand she may as well have put a single bullet in the chamber and spun the barrel.

"What happened?" He said, already knowing the answer.

Her tone was still bitter. "He was great, really accomplished. Celibacy hadn't diminished his skill in the least and when I came it was the same. Only, that time I felt the scrape of his fangs at my throat before he was gone."

Of course it had been the same. His balls were beginning to contract at just the thought of her aroused and begging for it, no wonder Mick had nearly lost it. Christ what a mess. Mick had had no problem controlling himself with freshies and short-time fucks in the past, he knew that for a fact.

Beth looked him in the eye for the first time. "Soon he stopped touching me at all."

Her head sank back down onto her arms. He'd never seen her look so defeated. He hated seeing her that way. It was time he told her the truth.

"He loves you, Beth."

She looked up, her hair in disarray, her blue eyes stricken, a broken angel in pink flannelette pyjamas. Hell, maybe he'd even tell her the whole truth. His eyes softened.

"When he looks at you he wishes he were human again, for just one ridiculous, miraculous moment, so you could see how you take his breath away. Beside you he feels fresh and clean and whole again and he wants to reach out and cradle you in the palms of his hands for eternity. You fill his endless nights with possibility." He paused. "You make a vampire want to be a better man, Beth."

Her eyes were shining and a single tear spilled onto her cheek. "Do you really think so?" She whispered.

Josef lifted a finger to her face with the delicacy of a lover and wiped away the wetness.

"I know so."

Beth's breath caught in her throat and the nearness of her body began to fill him with languorous warmth. His face began to incline downward.

Beth jumped.

The phone rang again.

"Oh my god. Mick!" Beth dived for the nightstand, flipping her phone open in one economical movement. "_Mick_!" She smiled across at Josef. "No, no it's ok, I'm still up…. No, he hasn't been working me too hard, I've been in bed for a while now… Josef - ?.. Not too bad – well, his usual curmudgeonly self really.." She smiled to show she didn't mean it. "He's right here, do you want to talk to him?.. No - ?.. Ok. So, when are you coming home..?"

She rolls over, doesn't even notice the door closing quietly behind him.

.

**********

.

Twenty-three minutes.

That's how long she speaks to Mick. He knows because his phone rings immediately afterward.

"What the fuck, Josef?"

The crackling down the line isn't just from a poor trans-Atlantic connection.

"She won a case, a case of my favorite was delivered. So what?," he says in an insultingly offhand tone. How dare Mick imply that he's thinking the things he might actually be thinking. " – and what about you, boyo? Slayed the dragon, saved the damsel in distress yet?"

"Fuck you."

"You seem to be doing a lot of that. Sure you haven't already rescued Coraline?"

There's a shocked, angry silence from Mick, and an unspoken question hanging in the air.

"Humans who won't open a vein aren't my type," Josef said. It was cold, clipped. This is exactly the sort of mess he was afraid would happen and all of a sudden he's very, very angry. "She's a _bother_, Mick, an annoying, demanding _princess_ who's turned the household upside down since the day she arrived. The only reason she's still here is because I promised _you_."

Mick is immediately contrite.

"She _can_ be a little feisty," he said, his tone apologetic. "I thought she'd grow on you."

Josef lets that one pass.

"When are you coming home?"

"Jeez, Josef, you sound like Beth. If I'd known you'd miss me so much, I would have left a framed photograph and some cute little notes scattered through your underwear drawer."

An accusatory pause echoes down the line. They both know damn well who's missing him.

"So what can I tell Miss Turner about when she can go back to her apartment?"

"That's why I rang. It should only be a couple more weeks at most. That hostile takeover stuff you had Ryder set up finally got Lance's attention. According to village gossip, _Monsieur Lance_ has pressing business that will keep him in Belgium for another month. The rest of the family think I'm just some dim-witted Yankee desperate to do a little protection work for the local aristocracy to fund a nasty gambling habit. I've made myself very - useful - to them in the time Lance has been gone."

Josef had the feeling he wasn't going to like what came next.

"The problem is, I'm going to be out of touch. I told them I'm avoiding certain _unhappy_ former acquaintances in the States, and they offered the hospitality of their estate, so I'm going to have to ditch the phone when I move in. It's the only way I can get access to the chateau unsupervised and rescue Coraline. I'm not sure they fully trust me, and I sure don't trust them, so I don't want anyone finding a thing that might undermine my cover. "

Wallis Simpson once famously said that a woman could never be too rich or too thin. Josef's vampire version was that you could never be too rich, or too paranoid, so he wasn't about to argue the logic of that.

It was going to complicate things, though.

"You've told her?"

"Just now."

A muscle twitched in Josef's jaw.

"Fine. Just get this done, Mick. And soon. "

.

*************

.

She thinks no one can hear her. To her they're only whimpers, but in this house, misery wafts through walls and bounces off the hardwood floors in jagged little angles that catch his ears no matter where he is.

"Jesus, Blondie, tone it down, will you? I don't care who died. All this blubbering is stressing out my girls and let me tell you, stale cortisol tastes like crap."

He's shooting for cruel, but the callous he's hitting is just fine for his purposes. You can't molly-coddle heartache. He learned that the hard way. He's entered unannounced and she's lying there, sheet hastily jerked up to her chin, red eyed, soggy cheeked and glaring at him in almost comical outrage.

"What the…? What are you… ? Get _out_ of here!"

"All that red must be wearing off. You weren't this modest an hour ago," he drawled. "And why would I leave when the ringside seat is right here?"

"Oh, of course this is funny to you. The only thing you care about is your profit margin."

Her claws had been sheathed for so long the words catch him by surprise and it hurts. Not that he's going to let her know that.

"You got me. The big bucks these days aren't in goldmines and Goldman-Sachs shares, they're in human baby-sitting services."

He handed her a box of tissues.

"He's never coming home, is he?" Her voice wobbled. She was going to start crying again, and he's not sure how to respond. He's certainly not going to tell her that he always thought Mick's departure was a mistake.

"Of course he is." He patted her hand like a condescending uncle. "He doesn't hate me enough to stick me with you forever."

"Oh, hardy, har, _har_," she sniffed, flashing him a reproachful glance and looking calmer already. And then, in that way she has of going right to the heart of things, she says,

"He kept going back to Coraline because of the sex, didn't he?"

His carefully neutral expression is answer enough.

"I thought so." She catches her lower lip between her teeth, looks miserable again. "It's obvious that I can't compete with that."

He can understand her despair. Coraline oozes sex appeal the way a skunk does stink, but Beth is missing the obvious. He leans over, taps her forehead several times with a fingertip.

"Oh, listen to that -- it echoes. Lucky you're not in charge of anything really important, BuzzWire, like air traffic control or getting all the little dimples onto golf balls, because right about now there'd be a million unhappy caddies out there looking for those suckers lost in the rough." He lowers his head, a finger under her chin forcing her to look up at him. "Coraline had to take The Cure because it was the only way she could compete with _you_." He raises his eyebrows for emphasis. "With _you_."

Her eyes are like saucers and he could say more, wants to say more even, but it's not his place and not _his_ tenderness she's wanting.

Lucky Mick is finishing this business in France soon. Josef's not sure how much more either of them can take of this.

.

******************

.


	8. Chapter 8

**Harvest VIII**

**.**

Josef wasn't aware that the news of Mick's impending return had affected him in any way until his private secretary stood up, shoo-ed all of his traders out of the office and closed the door behind them. She turned and eyed him sternly and said that if he was so all fired keen to chew someone out, then maybe he ought to take a freshie break. She didn't know what was eating _him_, but she wasn't going to allow anyone else into his office until he'd had some time to cool down.

It crossed his mind to bite her out of spite, but he'd always rewarded employees in the past for telling him difficult truths, so he waved a dismissive hand instead, swivelled his chair and peered out at the L.A. evening skyline with unseeing eyes.

Josef knew himself too well to try and conceal the reasons for his ill humour. He'd indulged himself with Beth, he could see that now. Her status as Mick's girlfriend had caught him off guard. She was neither to be fucked nor fed from and therefore didn't fit any of his usual categories for humans. He recalled the evening early in their acquaintance where she'd dragged him to an underground club. She'd given him his first glimpse of the real girl underneath the impetuous façade that night. Her humour and her sensuality and her little girl vulnerability had gotten under his skin. And later, much later, her temper and her fearlessness had earned his respect. She was the first human friend he'd had in over a century.

He wasn't expecting the piercing sense of loss he experienced as that realisation dawned; because now that it had, he knew that something deeper than mere camaraderie had developed - on his part at least – and that meant only thing if he wanted to continue his friendship with Mick.

He'd never been one to shy away from making difficult decisions and he didn't intend to start now. It wasn't like he'd never disconnected before, left loved ones behind, gone forward without the slightest hesitation. In time it had gotten easier and he would do it again, do it now, with her. She _was_ only a human, after all. The best thing for it was a quick clean cut - one eyebrow rose in humourless irony – and seeing as he couldn't do anything that would actually result in blood loss, there was only one alternative.

Josef flipped his phone open.

.

...

.

The mansion had an unfamiliar air of emptiness when Beth arrived home that evening. Normally she was greeted by gentle clinking from the human kitchen as staff prepared her meals or muted giggles from Josef's freshie quarters where the night shift amused themselves until they were needed. She didn't think too much about the silence, however, and took a shower, wrote some file notes, wandered down to the library where she poured herself a red wine and picked at a sandwich while pretending to watch the late night news. It was only when she noticed that no noise at all was coming from the 'donor' quarters that she realised she'd been holding her breath expectantly all night long.

The loneliness weighed heavily on her chest. She missed Mick. Oh he'd told her he'd be home soon, but the enforced embargo on their calls had left her sad and unsettled and she wanted to talk to Josef. Something about his flippant sarcasm always made her feel better and - a guilty blush warmed her cheeks - Josef could be kind when she needed it, too.

She reached for the telephone.

.

...

.

"_Hey Josef, it's me, Beth. It's too quiet here tonight. Not even your meaty bites are around. If you're going to be home before one, give me a call. I'll stay up and let you bore me with fiscal policy if you'll let me eat Spaghettios out of the can in the library. _"

Josef's finger hovered over the delete button.

The night sky was its usual soothing black, but tonight he could have done without the sight of himself in the jet's oblong window. He looked sombre, not at all like his usual devil-may-care self. A flicker of movement behind him was reflected in the window and he saw the hand before he felt it rest on his shoulder, watched detached, as the translucent girl in the glass slid into his lap and began to loosen the knot in his tie.

He pressed his finger against the delete button and snapped the phone tight.

.

...

.

Josef didn't return her call her that night; he didn't even come home as far as she could tell. The staff shrugged noncommittally when she tried fishing for information when a second night came and went without a sign of him.

Mr Kostan's comings and goings were private matters that didn't concern them, they said, better she didn't ask questions they couldn't answer.

When a third and then a fourth night passed without a single returned call, she stopped phoning and started investigating.

She strode into his private lobby the way she always did, as if she owned it. She had always enjoyed the narrowed glare of his receptionist whenever she entered his private foyer, never stopping to ask permission to enter Josef's inner sanctum. While she had always recognised that the other girl's dislike of her stemmed from the jealousy her special status in Josef's world evoked, she had never, until now, realised its true extent.

The other girl practically crowed, as she stood resolute in front of Josef's office doors, not even trying to conceal the malicious smile that spread across her beautiful features.

Mr Kostan was 'out of town' and 'didn't Miss Turner know that?'

'For, surely Mr Kostan had told her. Everybody else had been informed _days _ago.'

And the final indignity, 'Was there something that _she_ could help Miss Turner with?'

If Josef had wanted her to know where he was he would have told her, she'd just have to accept that fact.

.

...

.

On the evening of the tenth day that Josef had been gone, Beth turned the nose of her Prius into the mansion's driveway. It was late and she was tired and she wasn't looking forward to yet another night with just the security guards for company. Her headlights swung across the gravelled path and lit up dozens of luxury cars lining the hill all the way up to the front portico at the crest. The sound of jazz wafted out onto the warm evening air, filling her with excitement. Her heart hammering, she floored the accelerator and came to a screeching halt in the underground garage.

The staccato clack of her ascending heels echoed loudly from the concrete stairwell.

.

...

.

The mansion was ablaze with lights. French doors hung open all along the marbled terrace and knots of people, both human and vampire, laughed and chatted while white coated waiters wove amongst them bearing trays of champagne, hors d'oeuvres and caviar.

She stood on tiptoes and scanned the crowd for Josef.

There he was in the centre of the terrace, clapping someone on the back and gesturing expansively, a cigar clamped between his teeth. Now probably wasn't the time, but who knew when he'd be gone again? She took a breath and headed toward the terrace, then pulled up short as Josef's dark suited house manager stepped into her path. The old bird looked even grimmer than usual tonight and she was quick to take Beth's arm, whisper that it was Vampire-only business tonight and that Mr Kostan had requested that she take her supper in the library.

.

...

.

She couldn't eat a bite, not a mouthful, even though the meal was more sumptuous than the mansion's usual exquisite fare. If she wasn't sure before, she is now. Josef has forsaken her. This exclusion isn't just because of vampire business. She must have done something seriously wrong for him to banish her this completely.

The din that seemed so exciting not so long ago has a mocking tone now, and when she walks along the corridor toward the public rooms, intending to take Josef aside, ask for an explanation, she is stopped by an unknown security guard at the entrance to his public rooms who directs her back to her own wing of the house.

Beth paced the length of her room, her mouth set in an angry line. Screw him! Who needed Josef anyway? He was nothing but a ruthless, shallow, blood sucking _Republican_ and she could do very well without him.

She harrumphed. So let him have his party. That didn't mean she'd have to hang around for it. She stomped about her room, shucking off clothes, pulling on her sweats and sandshoes. The grounds were beautiful and well kept and spacious - plenty big enough for her to run the frustration out of her system. And if the vampire olfactory system was as sensitive as everyone kept saying, well then, let 'em have a nostril-full when she came back in the house. She felt a stab of vindictive pleasure as she imagined all the vampire noses crinkling delicately upon her return.

She tightened her laces and headed for the back stairs.

.

...

.

A painful stitch jabbed into her side as she crested the final hill on the route back to the mansion. She sagged, resting a palm on each knee and sucked in breaths in painful heaves. Not only were her face and neck burning like a kiln, but she was slick with sweat, her ponytail giving up any pretence of being perky about five cursed miles ago. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. The thought of being seen sneaking back into the house in this condition made her cringe. Vampires were always so cool and elegant!

By the time she reached the servants entrance, she felt truly woebegone. The kitchen was a whirl of activity, a chef and two cooks drizzle olive oil and mayonnaise over smoked salmon and pan seared tuna canapes, a sommelier examines dusty bottles of champagne and eases out the corks with barely a whisper.

She whisked a Russian Egg canapé from a platter on the bench and pivoted around a line of waiters holding fully laden trays above their shoulders and headed for the kitchen stairs, the domestics access to the upper floors.

She felt like telling him the kitchen area was for humans only, but even she knows that disturbing a feeding vampire isn't wise. Through the rounded porthole in the kitchen's swinging door she can see that the back stairs to her level are 'occupied' by an unknown vampire and his refreshment. She is hot, she is sticky, and she darn well needs a shower. She can't just wait it out until he dabs his lips and says he's had enough, she needs to go, and now. There is nothing else for it. She's going to have to run the gauntlet.

The tricky part is getting across the lobby to the stairs from the kitchen corridor. Apart from the area the party is taking place in, this is the busiest hub in the mansion. She waits and watches from around a corner and makes a break for it when the coast seems clear.

Halfway across the marbled floor, the double doors opened and a waiter with an empty tray stepped out, barely lifting his head as he cruised past her and toward the kitchen. Just as she is about to heave a sigh of relief, there is Josef, two steps beyond the door, engaged in conversation with an older vampire. He stopped talking mid-sentence and turned his head to stare at her. Beth was mortified. She looked down at the dark stains on her sweats and flushed with embarrassment. Josef beckoned to a passing waiter and nodded toward the open doors.

Beth flushed again as the doors began to close, not with embarrassment this time, but anger. She caught Josef's eye over the waiter's shoulder, raised her voice a little.

You could at least snub me in person. It's more effective that way.

Several conversations in the room beyond stopped.

She couldn't hear the comment Josef made, but she recognised the ugly laughter in response. Angry tears welled in both eyes. She pivoted on her heel, but before she could flounce away, Josef stepped passed the waiter and closed the door behind him, leaving the two of them alone in the cold marble lobby.

I suppose it was too much to expect common courtesy from you when I have business guests in my home.

The iciness of his tone had a perverse effect, fanning the flames of her anger even further.

If you want me to leave, Josef, all you have to do is say the word.

If only it were that easy, Blondie, but there's the little issue of my promise to your boyfriend.

Beth glared at Josef and he returned the look with one of utter indifference.

The double doors opened once more, and a redhead sauntered out wearing a gown of such stunning simplicity Beth knew it had cost more than her annual wage. The girl twined an arm around Josef's waist and looked at Beth, crinkling her nose in so exactly the way Beth had imagined that she would have laughed in the pretty girl's face had she not been so incensed.

Come back to the party, Josef, the girl wheedled. It's so _unpleasant_ out here.

She clung to his side and slid a possessive hand between his jacket and his crisp white shirt.

I wish I had more time, Beth, Josef said with blatant insincerity. If you'll excuse me.

A titter of laughter rippled through the room as the doors closed behind them.

.

...

.

Beth raised her chin and ascended the stairs like a princess. No one could take her dignity away unless she let them. She held it together until the bedroom door snicked shut behind her, then she sagged against the wood.

_Fuck!_

A sandshoe bounced off the far wall and rolled under the 18th century opposite to the bed.

_Bastard. Jerk. Imbecile._

The other sandshoe thunked against the cupboard doors. Her t-shirt and sweat pants were hurled with almighty force, landing in untidy heaps in different corners of the room. Her bra rested briefly on the coverlet before sliding off the silky fabric and onto the floor at the foot of her bed. Her knickers were swinging precariously from the lampshade. She stormed into the bathroom, gave each shower knob a vicious twist and thrust herself under the burning flow of water.

She didn't know when, she didn't know how, but he was going to pay. Oh yes, Josef Kostan was going to pay for humiliating her like this.

.

...

.

.

**A/N:** there are only two more chapters to go (unless it takes me longer to say what I've planned) and I've already written quite a bit, so there shouldn't be too long a wait for the next chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Harvest IX**

.

The beautiful redhead occupied the threshold of his private study as if she were centre stage.

"The last of your guests just left," she said in a breathy whisper. "We're finally all alone…"

"Good," said Josef, barely flicking her a glance before continuing to examine his mail. "Do something for me, will you babe?"

Her lips curved in triumph. "Anything you want," she cooed, sauntering toward him and lowering the cleverly concealed zipper on her lovely gown.

"Go get me Selene. I've got a hankering for blonde tonight."

The redhead's face fell. Small blotches of anger and embarrassment reddened both cheeks. For a second it seemed as if she were about to object, but she thought better of it, blew out a sulky breath and flounced toward the door.

"Oh, and Angie," Josef said, stopping her in her tracks. "When you get in to the agency tomorrow, tell them to take you off my list. You were unforgivably rude to Miss Turner tonight."

...

Beth jerked awake. The alarm clock blinked '3:37' at her in big red numbers. She closed her eyes and tried to drift back off to sleep. It was no use. She was still too churned up by her earlier encounter with Josef. _Josef!_ He had some apologising to do. Why not now? He always worked til dawn. She would corner him in his study, make him give a full explanation for his strange behaviour.

She threw back the coverlet and reached for her silky robe.

...

Only one thing was needed to make her utterly perfect.

"Turn out the light," Josef said.

The room plunged into shadow. In the golden glow of his desk lamp all that was visible was her bright blonde hair.

"_Come here_," he said, holding out his hand.

...

Light glowed around the edges of the open door to Josef's study. A murmur and the sound of skin sliding over fabric came from within. Josef wasn't alone. Morbid curiosity and a tight, hot feeling she didn't stop to analyse propelled her into the room, her bare feet making no sound at all on cool marble tiles underfoot.

A single desk lamp illuminated the darkness within. The antique polished wood of his desk gleamed with a warm tint of gold that made the room seem intimate, seductive, like one of the renaissance paintings of the Old Masters. At first the room seemed empty, but then she noticed that Josef's chair had been turned as if to give him a better view of the grounds beyond. Although from this angle she couldn't see more than the crisp white cotton of his sleeve laying on the armrest, she had a full view of the halo of pale hair draped over his masculine forearm. A pair of shapely legs shod in black stilettos extended over the other side of the chair. She raised her eyes. The lamplight had turned the darkened window of his study into a black mirror in which Josef and the woman were reflected.

She was lying across his lap, dressed in a sheath of navy silk with a split up to her panty line. Her head had been thrown back to expose the elegant arch of her neck and Josef's face was pressed against its apex.

Even in the poor light Beth could see that the woman's eyes were shut tight and that her face was contorted in an arousal so profound that she was entirely unaware of her surroundings. Beth flushed from head to toe. She had never really seen a vampire feed before. Was this how it always was between vampires and humans? Mick had been careful to keep that side of his past life from her. Now she knows why. The sounds the girl is making leaves her in no doubt that she is heading toward a climax.

With her merely human eyesight she couldn't see that in the dark Josef's eyes had lifted and were now locked onto the dim shadow of her reflection in the windowpane.

The woman moaned, a soft sound of such animal intensity that Beth's heart began to hammer.

...

He knew she was there long before she stepped into the room. He'd tracked her progress the moment the sole of her bare foot had warmed the white marble step at the head of his staircase. He'd considered retracting his fangs, allowing Selene to sit up and compose herself before Beth arrived, but felt a perverse disinclination to do so. It was his house after all and Beth an uninvited trespasser here tonight. The part of her that had been pushing Mick to satisfy her sexually, he knew that secret part of her wanted to be bitten. Why shouldn't she see what that really meant?

He could hear Beth's laboured breathing, smell the sweet scent magnified by her body heat. He raised his eyes and stared at her reflection there in the dark by his doorway. _She was so beautiful. God, but she was beautiful… intelligent... fearless... daring... _

He'd only intended to feed from Selene tonight, but with a sudden, sharp pang, knew he needed more. He felt the girl shift against his hardening erection and she moaned, a soft sound of animal intensity. He heard Beth's heart begin to hammer.

He retracted his fangs and gathered the girl to his chest.

...

The reflections of Josef and the girl began to kiss.

Beth stifled a gasp. In the dark and with the blonde hair flowing down her back, the woman in Josef's arms could easily have been Beth herself.

The hot, tight feeling in her chest expanded, making it hard to breathe. She began to back away and when she was safely in the darkened corridor, fled back to her room on shaking legs.

...

She lay in bed, her heart still pounding and tried to banish the disturbing images of Josef and the girl from mind.

Hot flashes of unwanted arousal kept coursing through her body. Eyes squeezed shut, she desperately thought of Mick. Picturing his handsome face and muscular body was more difficult than she thought it would be. She concentrated hard, remembering the lean grace with which he shrugged on a shirt or reached out a hand to open a door. She rolled over and pressed a hand between her legs, seeing him crossing her floor, his face in shadow; feeling his hard length pressed up against her in the dark. Her excitement grew as the shadowy fantasy Mick buried his face against her neck the way she'd seen tonight and she groaned, revelling in the sensation of a dangerous vampire at her throat. The thrill was intense, the rising crescendo almost overwhelming.

She was there, almost there, and as her imaginary lover lifted his head she climaxed in breathless shuddering waves when she saw that it was Josef.

...

Each of them took great care to avoid the possibility of an accidental meeting in the days that followed.

Beth couldn't imagine ever being able to look Josef squarely in the eye again after what she'd seen and done, her cheeks flaming, imagining that somehow he knew about her transgressions, both of them, and would despise her for it.

Josef, for his part, was unable to adequately explain to himself the decision to allow her to witness such a private moment, other than to acknowledge the undeniable attraction he felt toward her. That kind of carelessness was unlike him and he rededicated himself to the original plan of cutting off from her entirely.

The friendship each of them had grown to value seemed a distant memory.

...

In the end it was Fate that intervened to break the impasse.

The phone call interrupting his vampire working 'day' had come from his staff, when by rights it should have come from her. She was reluctant to give them details, refused their offers of help. He would be remiss in his role of guardian if he did not confront her.

"What happened?"

He was doing a reasonable facsimile of calm, but she can see that the hand jammed into his pocket is balled into a fist.

"Nothing happened."

"Care to take that from the top and try again?"

One eye is red and puffy and she is perched on the edge of her bath, trying and failing to roll the leg of her trousers down over her exposed knee with only one good hand. He can see that the bruise covers her entire kneecap and is already turning a winning shade of aubergine. There is an angry graze the size of Minnesota on her palm; her other hand is keeping the rest of her arm company in the sling.

"I fell."

"I see that," he nodded. "And I suppose you're about to tell me the cause was just your usual lack of womanly grace."

Beth narrowed her eyes in an 'oh, very funny' glare.

"Look it's nothing, okay. I was just a little more successful at tracking down a suspect today than I thought I'd be. No big deal."

He knows now why she has tried to hide this. She'd argued and won back the right to a bodyguard free workday some time ago.

"You're not going in tomorrow."

"I'm fine."

"Of course you are," he said in the altogether-too-reasonable version of his voice that always signalled trouble. "Undress."

They both ignored the strange frisson of tension that tingled in the atmosphere on the last word he uttered. It's obvious that neither of her injured hands is going to be able to manage the zipper down the back of her silky tank top.

"I thought so." He rocked back on his heels. "Ring Talbot. Now. Or I will."

"What is it with you vampires always trying to order me around! You sound just like Mick."

Tears are threatening to spill over onto her reddened cheeks and for the first time he sees beyond the tight haze of his own anger and realizes that she is downplaying what was an unpleasant and possibly dangerous experience. He has an urge to reach out, take her in his arms and comfort her, but turns away, thrusts his other hand into a pocket instead.

"Do whatever you want to do, Beth." He sounds completely bored and gazes somewhere over the top of her head as if to emphasise it. "I'll send one of the girls in to help you get ready for bed."

He stalks out, stiffening as he hears the first of the teardrops fall.

If she doesn't want to make a call, he will. Only his won't be to Talbot. He's owed quite a few favours in this town. If the suspect she's referring to isn't already in custody, after tonight he never will be.

...

Although they are once again on speaking terms, anger seems to be their only method of interaction these days.

"Call off your dogs, Josef."

She doesn't even bother acknowledging his private secretary when she stalks into his office today. She went to work in defiance of his orders only to find her vampire familiars ensconced as 'journalists' writing a piece on the newest of the D.A.'s investigators.

He hasn't even looked up from his paperwork, let alone issued an instruction, yet somehow every trader in his office is packing up their equipment and vacating the office space poste-haste.

"Well?" She said.

He's still not paying attention, flipping between files on his desk and typing on his laptop.

"I'm serious, Josef." Her toe is tapping an annoyed cha-cha on the carpet. "_Josef!_" Her raised voice isn't even rewarded with a glance. She threw her one good hand up in frustration. "I can't possibly work with your people glued to me twenty four hours a day!"

"So stop working."

He has finally looked up and despite his last statement he looks as sane as he did yesterday.

She blows out a disbelieving breath. "What, and how would I make a living just sitting around the house all day? Would you expect me to be kept just like one of your 'girls'?"

"You wouldn't be just like one of my girls," he smiled at her sweetly, "They all have impeccable manners."

Beth glared at him. "You know what I mean."

He could feel her blood pressure rising.

"What would you have me do?" She exploded, finally. "Meet you at the door every dawn in a fifties frock and high heels with a blood filled Bloody Mary in one hand?"

"Oh I wouldn't want to compromise your feminist values that much Beth," he leaned back in his chair and said with cool indifference. "I'd be perfectly satisfied with just the last two."

It took her a second to understand.

"Beast!"

"Prude."

"Control freak."

"Bottle blonde."

If it had been encased in a silver full metal jacket the look she gave him would have been fatal.

Josef sighed. "Look, Beth. Mick will be home soon. Take a few days off. Recuperate. God knows you'll be grateful for it. Something tells me you'll want to be in peak condition when he gets back." His shoulders slumped and he looked tired in a way she'd never seen before and for a second her feelings softened. Then one eyebrow rose in the arrogant way she knew so well and he said, "Besides, what sort of guardian do you think my best friend would think I was if I handed his human back in that condition?"

There seems to be just no getting through to Josef these days. His points made sense though, about getting herself as well as possible for Mick. Her eyes narrowed; there was another reason it might be worth doing as he suggested.

"If I agree to do what you say and take time off, will you tell me what's going on?"

She could almost see the shutters go down.

"I don't know what you mean," he said, his face blank.

"Don't treat me as if I'm a child, Josef. I mean between you and me."

...

.


	10. Chapter 10

**Harvest X**

**.**

"Come on, Josef, we're friends." She walked around the desk, crouched down at his side, her voice soft, "I know we are. So what's going on?"

He turned his head. He couldn't look at her. Her blue eyes had the same puzzled, hopeful look of a puppy that's just been chastised for chewing the morning paper and the scent of her at this range, after such a lengthy separation was dizzying.

She moved back into his line of sight, took his hand and smiled. "What is it? Have I stepped over some ancient vampire rule of etiquette? Have your pale and interesting Fortune 500 buddies banned you from the billionaire's club because you have a bite-free human in the house? Because if it is, hey…." She held her wrist under his nose, "one quick swig and you're - "

"No, Beth," he said more harshly than intended, "No." His hand curled around her wrist, his thumb unconsciously caressing the place she'd offered to his fangs.

"Are you sure?" She smiled, "I hear I'm pretty rare."

"Take a few days off and we'll talk."

"Promise?"

He hesitated. She raised her eyebrows threateningly.

He nodded.

*.*.*.*.*.*

So she'd done as Josef suggested, taken the time off work to rest and recuperate. She did want to be as recovered as she could be for Mick. It also gave her time with Josef, to find out why he was behaving so oddly. As Mick's only real friend, she and Josef would be in one another's company quite often from now on. The awkwardness, whatever it was about, wouldn't bother her in time but she wouldn't have Mick discomfited by ill feeling between those closest to him. She'd talk to Josef, find out whatever it was she'd done and apologise.

That was the plan - only Josef hadn't quite lived up to his part in it.

Not only hadn't he given her an answer to her question as he'd promised to, he'd hardly had time to acknowledge her greetings before he hurried off to one private room in the mansion or another. Even when she pursued him openly, her luck wasn't any better.

There was Josef in his study, hunched over the laptop. "Sorry, Beth, don't have time. The Hang Seng is down and there are seventeen million reasons why I need some time to swing this deal. Maybe later."

Or Josef with his hand over the mouthpiece of his office landline, "Are you sure you want to interrupt this, Beth? It's the White House."

Or Josef shaking his head and mouthing to her over the top of the head of a grey suited visitor in the library - _Not now, Beth_ - and pointing to the man - _Vee Eye Pee._

_Hmmph._ Very Important Person, her ass. Very Inaccurate Promises, he meant. A Vampire's Incessant Phoniness. If she didn't know any better, she'd suspect the apex predator was avoiding her.

There was nothing for it. He'd left her with no choice. She knew what she was planning was extreme, crazy even, but if she wanted to fix this before Mick came home, something drastic would have to be done.

*.*.*.*.*.*

The mistake he made was in having a well-established routine.

Every night at four fifteen sharp he walked in the front door, went to his private suite, undressed, showered, fed and worked until he retired to his freezer at seven.

The aroma of lemongrass and ginger, the grainy hand-made soap Josef paid a fortune for, permeated the spacious bathroom. Steam filled the air and the sound of water hitting tile was loud enough to muffle the sound of the opening door. A pair of hands lifted the silk robe hanging from the back of the bathroom door and tossed it aside, uncaring where in the bedroom outside it fell, then they opened the generous cupboard doors, grasped the stacks of fluffy linen inside, and very quietly put several pieces aside on the floor beside the door, and shoved the rest out the door. The lock on the bathroom door snicked shut.

A hand towel was folded then twirled, then both ends wrapped around a familiar pair of eyes and knotted.

Without warning the shower door opened, the water stopping automatically as the occupant exited the stall. Josef stepped naked into the room, his eyes silvering as he spotted Beth standing guard at his bathroom door, a jerry-rigged towelling blindfold covering half her face.

"This had better be a game of blind man's buff gone badly wrong," Josef drawled, "or I'll be having the hostage special on the dinner menu tonight."

"Listen up, Josef," Beth said, turning to face the direction of his voice, "this is how we're going to play it: you answer a question, you get a piece of your modesty back." She held up a piece of linen and shook it. "You don't, and the blind fold comes off." A hand rested on the knot at the back of her head in warning.

"You're assuming I care if you see me naked."

"You may not. But you might want to think about how you'd explain to Mick just how it is that I can describe that little scar above your…right thigh… in excruciating detail."

Josef's head snapped down to look at his groin and then back up again to the smug smile on her semi obscured face.

"Ahh, the things you learn when you eavesdrop on employees," Beth sighed. She heard him cross his arms.

Mick was already a little suspicious of his motives; best not give him any further cause for worry. "Make it snappy," Josef grouched.

"Why are you so angry with me?"

"Besides this gross invasion of my privacy, you mean?"

He had no intention of having this conversation, and in his current frame of mind and state of undress he daren't risk removing her from the room himself. No, he had to come up with something, if only to win a towel to throw around his waist so he could remove her with at least a modicum of decency. Okay. She asked for it.

"You're a pest, Beth. A headache. You ask about things you shouldn't, get into places you shouldn't, break every one of my rules, see 'no entry' signs as personal invitations and disrespect my staff. Should I go on?"

"I've always been like that," Beth said, the blindfold preventing her from seeing the hint of a smile flicker across his features, "but that didn't stop us being friends before. What's going on, Josef? Why all of a sudden won't you speak to me? Why are you acting like you can't stand to be around me, that you hate me? Why are you shutting me out like this?"

Fat lot of good the truth would do any of them.

"I believe according to your rules I'm owed some linen."

Beth bent her knees and felt for the pile below her and threw Josef a piece of towelling. He caught it mid-air and shook it free of its folds.

"A face washer?" he said in disbelief. "Really?"

The lips beneath the blindfold smiled. "Consider it a gesture of good faith. So why now?"

"It's not always all about you, Beth." He could see her sharp little mind putting two and two together and adding it up as he'd intended.

"Your business? All the hard work you've been doing lately. Is something going on? Oh, Josef, I - "

"Towel," he interrupted.

She tossed him a hand towel and heard the gentle whumph of it landing on the tiles a little short of where she'd been aiming. She heard Josef sigh and then the wet, slapping sound of the soles of his feet as they crossed the floor toward the towel and then there was complete and utter silence.

"Josef?" It was as if she were in the room alone. "Josef?" The skin on her forearms prickled. She held out a tentative hand in front of her. Her palm slid along the hard, wet curve of his pectoral muscle and her fingers drew back as if singed.

"You know, I'm quite partial to bondage games, Beth," he murmured into her ear. "There are handcuffs in the top drawer of the dresser in my bedroom."

Her face burned and she whirled and tore the blindfold off, her hands catching at the doorknob several times before she got a good grip. The latch clicked and the door swung open. Beth ran out of the room.

Josef smiled. Turnaround was always fair play.

*.*.*.*.*.*

Halfway between the bathroom and the exit from his bedroom she stopped.

_Damn that Josef!_ She'd almost fallen for his little call-your-bluff-and-raise-the-ante routine. If she chickened now, she'd never get another chance to corner him. Her chin tilted defiantly. She'd be damned if she'd allow a little skin to chase her away.

A moment later Josef strolled out of the bathroom, a towel slung low around his hips. Droplets of water still clung to his back and shoulders and dripped from the long, smooth muscles of his chest to his tight, white abdomen where they glittered like tiny diamonds in the dark hair that descended in a line below his belly button.

He cocked his head at the sight of her and rubbed a towel through the wet russet spikes of his hair. "You still here? I thought you might have gone to have a Percocet and a lie down."

Her throat tightened. His body was… much more muscular than his conservative business shirts had ever suggested.

"Ha, ha," she managed.

He picked up a remote and a section of wall hummed open to reveal a wardrobe space the size of her apartment. She struggled not to stare at the outline of his well formed behind beneath the towel as he chose a shirt, pulled it on over his freshly showered skin and buttoned it up.

"I'm reaching for my trousers now, Beth," he said without turning around, and doing exactly that. "And in a second I'll be putting them on. You sure you want to stick around for that? The trauma might scar you for life." He dropped the hanger to the floor and shook the trousers out. "And you might want to think about how you'd explain to Mick just how it is that you came to be in my bedroom in time to see me buck naked."

They stared at each other across the room for one long moment like duelling gunfighters waiting in the noonday sun for a call to draw, then Josef's eyebrow rose and he gripped the edge of the towel that secured it around his waist and began to lift.

"Alright, alright," Beth said, turning her back and crossing her arms with ill concealed grace. "But we're having this conversation."

She heard the towel drop to the floor and the sound of each foot sliding along the interior of his trouser legs. Finally she heard the sound of a zipper being raised and she gasped. Josef's hands slid over her shoulders. She hadn't even heard him cross the floor.

"How about we just call a truce," he suggested. "It's late and I don't feel like fighting."

She sighed and raised a hand toward each opposite shoulder, placing her own small hands atop his. "No more dodging my calls - ," she said with a suspicious look over her shoulder. He shook his head. "No unanswered phone messages." He nodded. " - and you'll come with me to grunge bands like you used to?"

He winced. "Let's just start with a gallery opening or two, shall we?"

"And from now on when I barge into that gulag you call an office you'll be happy to see me?"

"When have I ever been happy to see you in my office?"

She laughed, and spat into her palm then held it out toward him. "Deal," she said.

He shook his head. "If it's not in blood, its not worth the palm its pressed into." The cell phone beside the bed rang. "Now it's time for all good little girls to be in bed."

He wondered if he'd done the right thing as he watched the door close behind her, remembering the pain of wanting but not having that had driven him out of New York. At least he had another few days to enjoy the renewed friendship with her alone before Mick returned. Maybe he'd take an evening off work, do just as she suggested and take her to a club where, in the crush of people, he could stand too close, breathe in her scent without the risk of exposing how he felt. The phone rang again. He'd figure it out. He thumbed open his cell.

"Kostan."

"Josef, its me. I'm on my way home. Can you wait up for me?"

"Mick! You mean… tonight?"

"I'll be there in an hour."

The phone went dead and Josef snapped it shut and placed it carefully beside the bed, sat down and straightened the creases of his trousers.

*.*.*.*.*.*


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** _Woo hooo! I cannot believe I've finished this thing! I've written the final two chapters and will be posting the other tomorrow. Don't expect anyone to read it after this long a wait, but feel a sense of achievement anyway. As always, my respect for those authors who are able to sustain long multi-chaps is immense. Thank you in advance to any of you curious enough to see how this has ended._

**Harvest XI**

The alarm clock blinked '5.14 am' at her in taunting intervals.

She fluffed the goose down pillow, then lay her head back down, pulling the sheet up to her chin. She lay there for a while, then rolled to her side, sat up, fluffed the pillow again and thumped her head back down with a sigh. She tried not to look but couldn't help it. '5:19am'. It was long past the time she should have been asleep. Her passport to zed-land was normally pretty good, sleep usually came the moment her head hit the pillow. She couldn't understand it. It must be the prospect of seeing Mick again. Only another day or two to go and they'd be together again once more. So why, when she closed her eyes, did she see Josef with nothing but a towel around his waist? It didn't make any sense. She sat up and fluffed the pillow again, ignoring the butterflies in her belly. So she and Josef were friends again, so what?

Just when she was sure she'd never sleep again, she drifted off, entirely unaware of the sound of a car door opening and closing in the driveway, a familiar voice greeting Josef as the front door opened.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

.

The sensuous sound of expensive liquid lolloping into cut crystal brought a serenity to the silence in the room. Josef handed Mick a tumbler full.

"To prodigal sons," he said.

"To faithful friends," Mick replied with an edge.

The two friends gazed hard at one another, Mick holding his eyes for just a second longer than he should, Josef thought, and then they tossed the whiskey back in unison. Mick sighed and relaxed back into one of the deep leather sofas in Josef's study, his arms along the backrest, a re-filled tumbler of whiskey dangling between his fingers.

"They'd kept her chained, Josef," he said, his voice angrier than Josef had heard in a long while. "She'd been hurting. For months." Mick clenched his fists.

"You're still in love with her, Mick."

"I haven't forgotten that I once was," Mick countered.

The two men let the stalemate fade.

"Are you all right?" Josef asked eventually.

Mick shrugged. "I'm here, aren't I?" Josef waited for him to continue. Mick looked over at him keenly. "You know, we say we're the master race, superior to human beings in all things, but when I saw the things they'd done to her…" He took another sip of whiskey. "I could kill them all."

"Your information might put us in a position to do just that, if we ever needed to, Mick."

Mick nodded. "You're right."

Mick took a breath and spoke for hours about his reconnaissance. He outlined the internal layout of the DuVall chateau, drew sketches of the grounds, marking out the guard posts, both the obvious and the concealed, and estimated the number of their guards and the times they changed their watch and the armaments that they used. He described the passage Coraline had revealed during their daring escape, skating over the worst of the details when they'd been discovered by Lance's hounds, to talk more of it's entrance location, outside the grounds. Under Josef's careful questioning he ran through each of the personnel inside the chateau, gave a thoughtful analysis of their inter-relationships, their wants, their needs, their dealings with other families, their trade routes, their network of spies. Josef paid good money to his own spy network for intelligence on the political machinations of the Europeans. Mick's rescue mission hadn't been funded entirely out of the goodness of his heart. A vampire in his position could never be over-informed about the intent of the most powerful family in the EU. Mick's astute observations were beyond reproach; they were worth their weight in gold.

The sun was high in the sky before Mick at last was through. "… and finally one of Coraline's contacts came through with transport to the States," he said, "and here I am. Thought I'd surprise you."

"Surprise me doing what?" Josef smiled.

Tension simmered through the room once again. Neither of them had forgotten the argument they'd had not so long ago triggered by Josef's presence in Beth's room too late at night for it to be passed off as comfortably platonic.

Finally, Mick's eyebrow rose, "How is she? I assume I don't have to arrange for the Tar Pits to be dragged, do I?"

So they were going to play it that way, were they? That was swell by him. "Not today," Josef sipped his whiskey. "Ask me again tomorrow."

"That bad, huh?"

Josef looked out the window. "I've had better four-and-a-half month Mexican standoffs."

Both men turned toward the door abruptly, a light illuminating Mick from within. The study door swung open, and Beth sauntered in, her blonde head bowed over the morning papers.

"Hey, Josef…. the staff said you were still up so I thought I'd - … Miiiick!" She threw herself into his open arms, her blue eyes wet with tears.

"I wanted to surprise you, honey," Mick said, wrapping his arms about her and kissing her deeply.

"Take it up to your room, kids," Josef said, his hands busying themselves with the files on top of his desk. "I've got work to do."

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

.

Beth broke away, gasping for air and before she'd swallowed a proper lungful Mick had covered her lips with his again. She pulled away and gasped again. "Human," she laughed, "Human. Remember? Need. Air. To breathe."

Mick couldn't speak, his lips too busy covering her eyes, her nose, her throat, her earlobe. "I want to take you home and do very. Bad. Things to you," he growled, and her knees almost buckled. He unzipped his fly and placed her hand inside. "I missed you."

Mick was a totally different man. She'd never seen him so physically… open… with her. It wasn't just their separation. Wherever it was and whatever he'd been doing had been very, very good for him as a vampire and a man. Something had happened over there to change him. She pulled away again, the tears in her eyes for a different reason this time. After all the trouble they'd had in that department, was it possible that…? "Is this... do you mean it?"

His eyes darkened. "Let me take you home, Beth. Let me show you how much."

She looked at him, and started nodding, her head moving faster and faster as the tears welled in her eyes.

He kissed her again, his hand winding into the hair at the back of her neck. "I'll organise for Josef's staff to pack your bags." He was halfway to the door before he turned back, pulling her into his arms again for the deepest kiss of all. "I love you, Beth," he whispered. "I'm ready to give you what you need."

And then he was gone, and all her underlying doubts gone with him.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

.

They walked down the stairs arm in arm, a bevy of staff carrying her cases behind them. When they reached the lobby, she halted him with a hand on his chest.

"Wait Mick, I want to say goodbye to Josef."

"Okay." He leaned in, smiled, kissed her nose. "I'll organise your things in the car."

She found him in the library, his favourite place amongst all the rooms of his house, looking out onto the wide expanse lawn. For some reason, the atmosphere inside the lovely room had the sombre air of a church nave.

"Josef?"

Although he didn't stir, an intangible shift in the atmosphere told her that he was keenly aware of her presence.

"Mick and I are leaving and I wanted to say goodbye."

He turned and said, "Is this where we do the obligatory human hugging thing? Because if it is, I'm going to need this suit pressed."

"Well, if it's going to put you out that much, I insist." She embraced him lightly, a little confused by the lack of warmth in his response.

"So, I can finally get back to the business of being a vampire and bartering humans instead of baby-sitting them."

"You can't wait? I thought I'd be walled up in this vampire tomb forever."

The corner of his lips quirked in an uneven grin. "You say that now, but what about all the happy memories? Who's going to come to the rescue the next time you black up and go all ninja on some poor tree in the middle of the night?"

"Josef, you left me there hanging by my fingertips!"

He shrugged. "I didn't say it was your happy memory."

She rolled her eyes, smiling. "I did cause a minor disturbance or two, didn't I?"

"If it wasn't for Mick," Josef said, "the first time you started giving me grief I would have snapped you in two and fed both your skinny halves to my employees. Yeah…" his voice trailed off, "if it wasn't for Mick..."

The sound of Mick's footsteps echoed outside the library door.

"Beth, Honey, the bags are in the car. We should probably head out and get out of Josef's hair now."

Beth squeezed Josef's hand and looked from one man to the other. She walked toward Mick and Josef watched as his friend drew a possessive arm around her and stooped to kiss her hair.

"You go ahead, Honey," Mick said, "I'll just be a minute." Mick stepped into the library and closed the door behind him. "Thankyou. You did me a big favour looking after Beth the way you have." He paused. "I hope that's all it was."

Josef walked to his liquor cabinet, took his time pouring a generous measure of scotch. He lifted the cut crystal tumbler to his lips and drank deeply, his eyes never leaving Mick's face. "My people tell me you liberated Coraline three and a half weeks ago."

Mick shrugged. "I couldn't just leave her, Josef. I had to relocate her somewhere safe."

"Coraline must have been very… grateful... after you got her out."

Mick held his gaze without blinking. "Don't go there, Josef."

"She's here in L.A., isn't she?"

Mick's shoulders straightened, his face impassive. He regarded the other man for a long moment before he said, "Goodbye, Josef."

The thud of Mick's retreating footsteps didn't waver when Josef called out, "Even good men make mistakes, Mick."

The front door slammed and Josef knew he was alone. The sound of shattering glass split the silence in the empty mansion.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

.


	12. Chapter 12

**Harvest XII (Epilogue)**

**.**

"You really do look beautiful tonight." Mick lifted her hand off her lap and kissed her fingertips.

"Thank you, kind sir. I just hope my gown can survive tonight's hazardous conditions."

"Hazardous conditions?" Twin lines of bemusement creased Mick's brow.

"Yeah," Beth said airily, "you know, the female feeding frenzy that's going to crush everything around you once the clock strikes midnight."

He harrumphed and pretended to concentrate on the road. Beth smiled at his profile, loving every familiar inch of it. Mick had been as good as his word. Their relationship had improved on every level since coming home from his mystery trip. Still, she found herself missing Josef at odd, random moments. She and Mick had been too wrapped up in one another to have seen much of anyone in the months since his return.

The Mercedes turned into Josef's long driveway. Beth gasped. Fairy lights lit the undergrowth all the way along the long drive to Josef's mansion and cool jazz floated down the hill in a way that made her skin tingle. Beth leaned forward. Coming up the winding drive tonight felt like coming home. Butterflies began to churn in her stomach.

Mick parked and threw the keys to a valet. People crowded out every open doorway.

"You ready to brave the crowd?"

With his hand on the small of her back, she'd brave anything. They walked into the wall of sound, laughing as they squeezed past beautiful women in floor length gowns and men in white shirts and ties and glossy black shoes. Mick clutched her hand tightly and forged through the crowd looking for Josef.

A space opened up suddenly and there he was, across the room by the piano, each arm around what looked like a pair of identical twins.

Mick shook his head. "Josef," he muttered in amused dismay, his tone not nearly as disapproving as Beth would have liked.

Josef looked across and grinned and waved them over. He looked insufferably smug as he stroked each of the exotic girls' flat midriffs. "Nina and Katrina, meet my friends Mick and Beth. Mick and Beth, meet my friends with benefits." Josef raised an eyebrow and shot Beth a far more polite version of the face that she was giving him.

Mick hugged Beth tight to his side, hoping it would stop the flow of air across her vocal cords. "Josef. I don't want to interrupt… I can see you have your hands full looking after your guests."

"Enjoy the party…. you know my home is your home," Josef smiled, and it seemed that his eyes caught Beth's and held them for a second before he was swallowed up by a bevy of giggly girls raiding his pockets for cigars.

The rest of the evening passed in a swirl of color and conversation and champagne by the pool as Mick held her close and swayed to Chet Baker's 'My Funny Valentine'. She hadn't caught a glimpse of Josef, let alone had any time with him to really talk and as the clock ticked ever closer to the hour she caught herself looking for him surreptitiously in the crowd. Eventually she asked Mick.

"Where did Josef go?"

Mick shrugged. "He'll be around – usually in the middle of wherever the most women are."

"Oh," she said. She took another sip of the expensive champagne the waiters had been filling her glass with all evening and tried to tell herself what she was feeling wasn't disappointment.

The band had stopped and the MC was counting down.

".. _Four! Three! Two! One!_.."

Starbursts of brilliant gold and vermillion exploded in the sky above them.

"Happy New Year, Beth," Mick smiled into the nape of her neck.

She turned and raised her mouth to his, breathless when they parted. "Happy New Year, Mick."

She peered over his shoulder and laughed. As predicted, Josef's fireworks weren't the only things getting a little attention from the crowd. Every freshie in the place and many of the other women present were heading straight in Mick's direction, purposeful smiles on all their faces. She and Mick exchanged looks and Mick raised his eyebrows in consternation. _What am I supposed to do_, his face asked, as a dozen women began to converge on his position, _Tell me what I'm supposed to do_!

Mick was such a gentleman; he'd hate having to embarrass any of the ladies with a refusal. What the hell? It was New Year's Eve after all.

"Okay," Beth laughed again. "Hall Pass." An unsteady finger rose in warning. "But this is a oncer, you hear me, Mick St. John?! Anything after one a.m. is officially infidelity."

Mick kissed her. "As if," he whispered, "I would ever cheat on you."

She squeezed his arm and left him to it, threading her way through the crowd with the loose, careful gait of mid-level inebriation.

.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

.

"It's anti-social, you know, leaving your own party before midnight on New Year's Eve."

Josef's office chair swung around to face her. She was standing in the doorway to his private office the way she had so many infuriating times before, the gold organza of her gown clinging to her slender curves.

"Just another one of my endearing eccentricities," he said, raising a tumbler of red-tinged whiskey in her direction. "You know how it is, they won't let you in the billionaire's club without some."

"Sad, that merely being a vampire isn't enough to maintain the mystique these days," she said as she strolled into the room.

"TMZ has a lot to answer for."

She laughed. A champagne glass was dangling from her fingertips and he could feel the warmth from the alcohol flush on her cheeks from where he was sitting. She'd over imbibed.

She leaned both palms on his desk, allowing him a good view of the creamy cleavage framed by the sweetheart neckline of her gown. "Have you missed me?" she asked, her aim straight, as usual, for the bullseye. She didn't wait for a response, pointing to the closed drapes against his window. "What's with all the gloom?" She picked up the remote from his desk and pressed the switch that operated the office window hangings.

The scenery outside was beautiful; the emerald green of the under-lit palms beyond his window a dramatic contrast to the star lit inky blackness of the evening sky.

"I couldn't let you miss it all," she said.

She rested her glass carefully on his desk and reached out and caught his hands and pulled him from his chair to stand beside her. He didn't know what she could mean. The fireworks had finished several minutes ago.

"They always carry spares in case some fail to detonate", she said, as if reading his mind. "I asked if they could blow them all."

On cue, a spectacular shower of silver sparks lit up the sky and fell to earth in a slow, graceful arc. Beth laughed, fumbling at the catch on his window, swinging both sides open as shower after shower of emerald and ruby sparklers bloomed from overhead. She leaned out, grinning from ear to ear.

"Don't you just love it?" she shouted back at him above the din. She'd never seemed more beautiful.

If she thought anything of the look he was giving her she didn't say, just looped an arm through his and nudged his shoulder. "Come on, Josef, don't be such a New Year's Grinch. You've got three hundred and sixty four days of the year to be a grouchy old Vamp in. Tonight's the one night you can let yourself go." She stood on tiptoes, raised her face to his. "Happy New Year."

Her breath smelled of Dom Perignon and the faintest hint of cinnamon. At the last moment he turned his face away, just a tiny sideways movement, but it was enough for her lips to miss their mark, landing at the edge of his mouth rather than in the center. Their eyes locked as she pulled away and the sounds of the party and the last of the fireworks faded away to nothing. Her pupils widened and he could see that she had finally understood.

"Why did you leave your party?" Beth whispered.

He spun on his heel, looked out of the window once again. "Why are you here, Beth?" he demanded, his tone acerbic.

"You invited us."

He turned and looked her in the eye. "I mean, you, here, in this room with me right now."

"You're my friend. I wanted to wish you a happy new year."

"Am I? Your _friend_?" The sarcasm made her wince. He heard her heartbeat quicken, felt the heat rise to the surface of her skin.

Her eyebrows rose in confusion. "I…"

"Forget it, Beth." He seemed too absorbed with the motion of the palm leaves outside his window to let her finish. "I've had a little too much bloodied whiskey. Go back to the party."

"Josef, I - "

"I said, GO!"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." Her gown rustled and then her hand was on his forearm. "I wanted to… just wanted - "

His hands curled around her upper arms and he whispered, "Happy New Year, Beth," and arched her back against the wall and leaned in and kissed her the way he had always wanted to, the way he had dreaded one day that he would. Beth gasped and he pulled away, his hands dropping to his sides. He walked to the bar, poured himself another drink. He didn't dare look at her.

The silence stretched in unbearable increments. Her footsteps came toward him and she joined him at the bar, filling her champagne glass without giving him a glance. She lifted it to her lips and took one long swallow, finishing the glass completely before finally speaking.

"No fair, Josef." Her laugh sounded shaky and the hand that held her champagne glass was trembling. "You're immortal, stinking rich _and_ you kiss like that? If Mick wasn't around I'd have to take a contract out on all those lucky girls you call your friends with benefits so I could have you to myself."

_One night, Beth, I can last a lifetime on just one night. Mick would never know and we would never, ever speak of it again._ The words burned like bile at the back of his throat. The silence felt a little dangerous and beside him, Beth watched as his knuckles whitened around his whiskey glass. Then his spine straightened and he cocked his head and turned to her with his trademark, lop-sided grin. "It would never work out, BuzzWire" he said, his tone almost managing the airy nonchalance he was aiming for. "My list of those kind of friends would bankrupt you."

It was going to be alright. She rested her palm against his cheek in gratitude. "I don't know any hit-men, anyway."

He peeled the hand away from his face and dropped a kiss into the centre of her palm, then threaded his fingers through hers and raised an eyebrow and looked at her meaningfully, a reminder of just exactly which of the two of them did have a little black book full of those sorts of acquaintances.

"You're scary, you know that? Scary," she laughed.

"Oh, so five months of rules and death threats from me while you were living here and _now_ you're scared."

They beamed at one another, just like old times.

"What can I say…?" Her smile got a little wobbly. "I've always been a little slow."

And then she placed her empty glass down and lay her palm against his jaw and drew him to her, taking her time so there could be no mistaking her intention. There were tears in her eyes when their lips met, and this time the kiss was a tender acknowledgement of what so easily might have been.

"Come to me if you ever need anything, Beth," he murmured against her hair and then he groaned in pained amusement. "Falling for you human girls is killing me, you hear me, killing me. Thank God it's only twice a century."

She smiled and squeezed his hand and, freeing herself from his arms, stepped back. "It's time I went and pried your supper away from - "

The study door opened.

"- Mick!"

"Here you are, Beautiful." Mick kissed the side of Beth's face, cocking his head at the way Josef's aroma clung to her. "I see I wasn't the only one with a Hall Pass tonight." He was smiling, but there was an edge in his tone and for a second his eyes narrowed speculatively at his friend.

Josef returned his gaze evenly.

"Josef and I wished one another a happy new year, Mick." Beth said quietly.

And just like that the moment passed and Mick smiled and stuck out his hand. "Happy New Year, Old Man."

"Happy New Year, Brother."

Josef grinned and draped an arm around each of his friends and led them back toward the fun and laughter of the party outside. He was Josef Kostan, the Master of L.A., and as long as he had his money and his girls and a few good friends he would survive the worst of this painful harvest and live to love another day.

.


End file.
